


Beauty and the Beast

by aphrael33



Series: Beauty and the Beast [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Use, F/M, Ghouls, Goodneighbor, Pre-Relationship, Secrets, Sex isn't easy for everyone, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrael33/pseuds/aphrael33
Summary: Hancock, handsome and dangerous ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor, never thought he'd be able to find someone who could accept him as he was. But Susan, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, is different from anyone he's met before. Can a human and a ghoul have a relationship?





	1. Barely Even Friends: 35 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock can’t stop thinking about the vault dweller. After she killed Kellogg and got some bad news about her son, she’s been getting wasted at the Third Rail for a few nights. Her choices put her in a difficult situation. Will Hancock be able to help her?

Hancock sat in the VIP room at the Third Rail, smoking a cigarette and trying to ignore the chatter around him. He could have sworn he had just heard the words, “No, I don’t want to,” from outside the open door. Normally he would have just shrugged it off, but he had a nagging feeling it was the vault dweller he had met a few weeks back who had made such an impression on him. Hancock didn’t quite understand why she filled his thoughts so often, other than her obvious physical attractiveness. 

The look on her face when he had stabbed Finn stuck in Hancock’s mind. Shock and gratefulness and relief, intelligence and curiosity. No judgements, no fear. His brief conversation with her had intrigued him. She was different from anyone he had met before: so strong in her resilience, so fragile in her appearance. So… closed in on herself. But she’d scouted out Pickman’s Gallery for him when he’d asked her to. She’d even talked him out of more caps than he had offered. 

What a shitshow that had turned out to be! A psychopathic serial killer artist was pretty high up on the freak scale, even by his standards.

Hancock kept thinking about Fahrenheit’s report on the Bobbi incident, too. Apparently, the vaultie had blown Bobbi’s head off with a shotgun within seconds of realizing she’d been lied to and they had actually dug into Hancock’s storeroom instead of Diamond City’s. And her apology to him later had been sincere. Her penetrating green gaze when she asked if they were good had haunted him. 

Tonight, he had been watching for her. After the Big Dig, he had expected the vault dweller to clear out of town, but she hadn’t. She had used the caps he gave her for her loyalty to hire MacCready to teach her about sniping, and she’d made friends all over town, clearing the library for Daisy, helping Kent with his ridiculous Silver Shroud fantasy, even running a local job for Hancock she didn’t know he had set up through his robot bartender, White Chapel Charlie. She was fitting in. 

Then she and MacCready came back from a mission a few days ago covered with wounds. Mac had told him they’d gotten some bad news about her missing son, but he wouldn’t say much more. Hancock knew Amari had helped the vaultie… What was her name, Susan?... find some information with Nick the detective’s help, but he didn’t know specifics. He just knew that the vault dweller had been drinking whiskey and doing Med-X at the bar every night since. 

Hancock had invited her to sit in the VIP room with him a few times during her stay in Goodneighbor, and she had agreed, but she was unreachable. She drank bourbon and did Jet and responded politely. He had tried to engage her in conversation, and she was incredibly well-spoken, with no hint of an accent, and knew a remarkable amount on a wide variety of topics, despite her sometimes-stunning ignorance of the Commonwealth. She had made him laugh several times with her dry, acerbic comments. She spoke sarcasm like it was a second language. But she rebuffed every attempt to talk about anything personal. 

Her polite, clipped responses and the way she held herself apart from him and everyone else hadn’t discouraged his interest in her, although it had discouraged him from digging much deeper. 

It was the look in those green eyes that had him twisted up, dammit. She examined him as thoroughly as everything she saw, noting and assessing every detail with the calculating eyes of a scientist. Hancock could have sworn, though, that on the few occasions they’d been alone together for a moment that she had given him long looks that were more than assessment. They felt like caresses. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Probably. 

Fahrenheit had definitely noticed his preoccupation tonight. “That vaultie is getting blitzed again,” she said casually. “We’ll run out of whiskey soon if she keeps this up. Not to mention Med-X.”

Hancock took a long drag off his cigarette before he looked at his bodyguard. “That so?” he asked casually. “Guess she’s my type of gal.”

Fahrenheit snickered and turned her attention back to the conversation some drifters were having, but Hancock was focused on what was happening just outside the door to his VIP room. 

“No,” Hancock heard clearly this time, and the vault dweller came into his field of vision. She was backing away from the bar, her steps unsteady. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” 

Her long blond hair was disheveled, the wavy locks uncharacteristically tangled, and the dress she was wearing was rumpled. Hancock shook his head as he noted this visual evidence of a clear change in the impeccably tidy vault dweller he had met just a few weeks before. He had thought Fahrenheit must have been exaggerating, but clearly something was eating the vault dweller up. 

Hancock knew a lot about using drugs to deal with emotional pain, and he couldn’t help but wonder what demons were driving her. 

She turned, wobbly, to head up the stairs. A few seconds later, a burly drifter he had seen around town got up from the bar and sauntered after her, hitching up his pants casually. 

This ain’t none of my business, Hancock told himself. The vaultie was competent. She could take care of herself. But he found himself getting to his feet. He adjusted his tricorn hat and the red, white, and blue flag tied around his waist like a sash. His long red coat flared out behind him over high black boots. 

“I’ll, ah, be right back,” he said in his gravelly voice to his bodyguard, who just smirked. 

He slowly climbed the stairs leading up out of the Third Rail. At the top, he greeted Ham, the bouncer, warmly. Like Hancock himself, Ham was a ghoul, and his skin was ravaged by radiation damage, the cartilage in nose and ears destroyed. Ham wore a tuxedo and a top hat, and he was secretly tender-hearted. “Heya my man, seen anything out of the ordinary?”

Ham turned a troubled gaze to him. “Well, here’s the thing. That vault dweller just stumbled up here to the bathroom, and when she came out some guy grabbed her and kinda…. bustled her out. I don’t think she wanted to go, boss. I thought I should probably do something, but I didn’t know what and I didn’t want to leave my post.” 

Hancock clapped him on the back. “I’ll take care of it. Stay sharp, pal.”

He stepped out into the night, senses alert. At first, he didn’t see any sign of her. But then he heard a muffled gasp off to his right, and he followed the sound to an alley by one of Goodneighbor’s warehouses. 

When Hancock turned the corner, he saw the vault dweller pinned against a wall, struggling with the drifter, who was probably twice her size. One of his hands held both hers above her head and the other was underneath her dress. He was trying to kiss her, drowning out her protests.

“No, please stop,” she gasped, sounding desperate, fighting her obvious inebriation, and Hancock found himself moving forward without having made the decision to. 

He pressed his knife to the man’s throat. “Hey asshole,” Hancock grated. “The lady said no.”

The man froze. “What business is it of yours?” he asked gruffly. “She was willing enough to start. Wasn’t you, honey?” She flinched and turned her head to the side.

“Well, now she ain’t, ya dig?” Hancock said, putting enough pressure onto the knife to draw a thin line of blood on the drifter’s throat. After a second the man released his hold on the vault dweller and she collapsed to the ground, hands over her face. He resisted his urge to spill the asshole’s guts all over the pavement as the man sauntered off. He was more interested in the vault dweller’s condition. 

“Hey doll,” Hancock said quietly, crouching down to eye level. “Can I help you up?”

She slowly lowered her hands and gazed up at him with a tear-stained face. He felt a hitch in his chest at the miserable look in those emerald eyes. “Okay,” she whispered after a moment, and hesitantly held up her arms towards him.

Hancock pulled her up and into an embrace. She clung to him for a moment, shaking, then tried to pull away. “Easy,” he said as she teetered uncertainly. “Let me help you, sunshine.” He wrapped one arm around her slender shoulders and held her elbow with the other as he steered her out of the alley. 

He wasn’t sure why he had called her sunshine; he’d never called anyone that before. It just seemed to suit her despite her current misery. Maybe it was the sunny blond hair. 

“Where we goin’, doll?” Hancock asked her, noticing the husky purr in his voice, the one usually reserved for more intimate occasions. Keep the dirty shit to yourself, man, he thought, she just got assaulted, remember? “You want me to take you to your room? You’re staying at the Hotel Rexford, right?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “No. Yes.”

It took him a second to put that all together. “You tryna tell me you’re staying at the Rex but you don’t wanna go there?”

“Yes,” she said, and it was barely a breath. She stopped and clung to his arm briefly before turning that green gaze on him. She swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Hancock studied her. “You wanna come to the State House for a while?”

“Okay,” she replied uncertainly. It was a short trip, but he could see she was starting to recover some before they made it up the stairs to his office. He helped her into his favorite couch and sat next to her. She tucked into the corner and he noticed she was still trembling.

Acting unconcerned, Hancock handed her a bottle of purified water and waited while she drank. “Feeling a bit better?” he asked her quietly after a few minutes of silence. She nodded, not looking at him. “What happened, sister?”

She stared at the air in front of her. “I don’t know,” she said. He just looked at her. She studied her hands intently. Finally, she sighed. “Do you really want to know?”

Hancock didn’t respond immediately. Instead he lit a cigarette and handed it to her, then lit one for himself. They smoked for a minute in silence.

“It was my fault,” she said dully, her eyes still focused on nothing. “I should’ve put him in his place right away. I could’ve. But it’s been so...” She paused. “I’ve been so lonely.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “It’s been so long since anyone touched me. He was gentle at first. It felt so good to be touched,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed. She hugged herself, as if remembering past pleasures. “Nate and I… We used to snuggle every night he was home.” When her eyes opened, they were filled with pain and longing.

Responding to the need naked on her face, Hancock carefully put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. She stiffened at first but relaxed against him when he didn’t do anything else. His hand gently caressed her shoulder. “It’s all right, sister,” he said, trying but failing to keep that husky purr out of his voice. “You’re safe here. It wasn’t your fault. If I had slit that prick’s throat the world would be a better place.”

Hancock held the vault dweller in silence for a while, wishing his body wasn’t responding quite so enthusiastically to her close proximity. After a few minutes she made as if to pull away. “I should go to my room,” she said, as if suddenly uncertain of her welcome.

“I don’t think so, sunshine,” Hancock responded. “It’s late and you ain’t exactly steady. You can stay here tonight.” She stiffened up again and he pulled his arm away from her shoulders so she wouldn’t feel trapped. “I’ll give you a choice. You can sleep here and I’ll go sleep in my bed, or I can help you to my bed and I’ll come back here and sleep on this couch like I usually do anyhow.”

She considered that. “You didn’t include any choices to go home.” 

“Didn’t think you had a ‘home’, doll,” Hancock said gently. She looked down and her shoulders slumped. “You really wanna go back to the Rex, I’ll walk you there, sister. But I got a place just a few steps away where you can crash and my promise that you’ll be safe there.” Hancock paused. “And I can give you somethin’ you need, somethin’ you can’t get alone in your room at the Rex.”

She tensed up so much his own body ached in response. “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” Hancock said solemnly. “If I do, you just say stop and I’m gone. You feel me?” 

She studied him searchingly for a minute more, and he didn’t know what she was looking for, or if she found it, but she finally nodded. Hancock stood up and offered her his hand. She took it hesitantly, and he helped her to her feet. She was still unsteady enough from the whiskey and Med-X that he was grateful his bedroom was on the same floor as his office. 

The guard outside, a Triggerman named Nicky, smirked when he saw Hancock escorting the lovely vault dweller across the landing to his bedroom, and Hancock cursed him silently, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Fortunately, she seemed too stoned and withdrawn to pay attention, her glassy eyes gazing forward but seeing nothing. 

He helped her inside and shut the door, wondering what she thought of his meager accommodations as he moved her to the corner of the bed with his hands on her slim shoulders. She stood there trembling as he casually crossed to the other side and stretched out, fully clothed. He put his arm up and patted the spot next to him, silently inviting her to join him. Hancock tried to look harmless and unconcerned as he watched the puzzlement and fear on her face slowly turn to something else. 

She crawled onto the bed and lay on her side facing him, tentatively trying her head on his shoulder and then cuddling up closer. She settled her free hand on his chest with a tiny sigh. When Hancock thought she was relaxed enough that she wouldn’t feel threatened, he reached around and began gently stroking her arm from shoulder to elbow. They lay like that until her breathing evened out and she stopped trembling. He noticed with satisfaction that the tension had drained out of her and she looked more comfortable than he had seen her since she walked into Goodneighbor. 

Hancock was just trying to decide if she had fallen asleep and was wondering if he could extricate himself from their embrace without waking her when she spoke. “Don’t suppose you have some Jet?” she mumbled into his neck. “I don’t want to fall asleep yet. This feels too good.” 

He chuckled, no longer trying to keep that husky purr out of his voice. “I got some Jet, sunshine, but I don’t think you need anything else right now, especially something speedy. Just sleep, doll. If you want another snuggle later, I think it can be arranged.” 

“Promise?” she whispered, and her voice was filled with an ocean of loneliness. 

“Cross my heart,” Hancock confirmed. She rolled away and for a second, he wondered if it was because he had refused her request for Jet; but she grabbed his arm and pulled it around her, gently tugging him onto his side until he was spooning her, and she entwined her fingers into his and pressed her back into his chest. His arm was pleasantly sandwiched in her bosom and he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his pelvis away from hers so she wouldn’t feel his arousal, although he had a feeling it was obvious. She didn’t tense up or pull away, though, so he relaxed and held her as she so clearly, so desperately needed, until she fell asleep. It didn’t take that long. 

When he was sure he could get away without waking her, he carefully eased himself out of bed. Although the temptation was high to just fall asleep there with her, Hancock had promised her he would sleep on the couch; and besides, he was still seared with a fierce longing and he would sleep better if he did something about it first. He watched her sleeping form from the doorway for a few minutes before he let himself out. 

Nicky looked up in surprise when he came out. “Expected you to be busy with that all night, boss,” he said. 

“It ain’t like that,” Hancock replied shortly. “Just helpin’ out someone who needed it.” 

“If you say so,” the Triggerman replied. “But that’s a helluva piece.” 

“Don’t make this into something it ain’t,” Hancock said. “The last thing the LADY needs is everyone talking about her tomorrow. Ya dig?” Nicky shrugged, and Hancock sighed inwardly, hoping he hadn’t just made the vault dweller’s situation worse. Susan. He tried the name on his lips once he was alone in his office. 

He was awake for a long time, thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started coming up with this fantasy when I spun up Fallout 4 after having major surgery. I got obsessed with Hancock, and I read some fanfiction, but I found it frustrating how easy sex was for everyone. So I decided to write my actual medical issues onto a character, and a story was born.


	2. Then Somebody Bends: 36 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, approaches the world with a new attitude after her evening with Hancock. She tells him her story, and he opens up about his past. Hancock offers to help Susan, and she realizes her attraction to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of actual Hancock quotes in this one!

Susan walked through the front door of the Third Rail in the afternoon the next day, feeling better than she could remember for… Well, centuries, she thought to herself, stifling a laugh at the absurdity of it. Her logical brain told her it was the oxytocin her body had no doubt generated during the time when she had lain snuggled warmly in bed with the mayor of Goodneighbor, who by reputation was a philanderer, scoundrel, and ne’er-do-well, who had murdered a man for trying to extort her, who made her feel safer and more comfortable than anyone ever had, except Nate. 

Who was a ghoul, a ghoul, for fuck’s sake, that was almost like a zombie, wasn’t it? Susan shook her head in wonderment at that, not necessarily that she had cuddled with someone who looked like a zombie, but that her idea of what a ghoul was had changed last night. Whatever else Hancock was, he was a man, and a kind, gentle, considerate, highly perceptive man, at that. 

A grin crossed her face as she remembered the very pointed proof of his manhood pressed into her backside last night. At least she still had the ability to inspire desire in a man. That was something, wasn’t it?

Feeling a little high already from the Jet she had taken earlier in the ruins, Susan was mentally counting how many caps she could afford to spend on whiskey and Med-X when Ham, the ghoul doorman, stopped her at the top of the stairs. She was surprised, since he usually just nodded courteously or made a little joke like, ‘Don’t bother the other patrons,’ before she went down. “Boss asked to see you in the VIP room when you came in,” Ham said. 

“Thanks, honey,” Susan replied calmly, but she could feel her heart pounding as she descended the stairs into the Rail. 

She didn’t go straight to the VIP room, though. She needed a drink in her before she could face Goodneighbor’s mayor. Her face flushed as she thought about how weak and helpless she must have seemed to him last night. What must he think of her? 

The place wasn’t packed although there were a few drifters about, and Susan hurried past the spot where she knew Hancock would be able to see her from the VIP room, stepping up to the bar.

“Hey Chuck,” she said to Whitechapel Charlie, a Mister Handy bartender programmed with a cockney accent whose quirky insults made her laugh. 

“Evening, lass,” the robot said. “Mayor Hancock asked to see you in the VIP room when you arrived. He requested a bottle of that bourbon you drink,” he added, his tone making it clear what he thought of her taste. 

“Not everyone likes scotch, Chuck,” Susan said cheerfully, but inwardly she sighed. Outmaneuvered, she thought a bit irritably. Now it would seem odd to ask for just Med-X, and rude to order another bottle when she could save her caps and just talk to the man without being lit. That was a thing she could do, right? She didn’t need that damned narcotic today, anyway, she told herself. She turned and strolled casually over to the VIP room.

Hancock wasn’t alone; he rarely was. Unless the door was closed, residents of Goodneighbor knew they could pop in and chat with him almost anytime he was there. When he saw Susan, he cut off the conversation he was having with a drifter and gestured for her to come over. 

“Hey sunshine,” Hancock greeted her warmly. “How you feelin’ today?”

“Better, thanks,” Susan replied, and the smile that spread over her face as she met his gaze was genuine. 

His eyes were so dark, it was like there was no white at all, but the expression in them was friendly and welcoming. She noticed that Hancock had been sitting leaned over with his arm on the couch when she came in, casually blocking anyone from sitting next to him, but as Susan stepped in hesitantly and looked around, greeting everyone with a smile, nod, or wave, he sat up and put his arm on the back of the couch. 

“Have a seat,” Hancock said, his rough voice softening as he took in her groomed appearance. “I got some whiskey for you,” he added, handing her the bottle, which she took gratefully. 

Surveying the room surreptitiously, Susan helped herself to a long swig. She was glad she had taken the time to carefully brush her hair and clean her dress tonight, since everyone in the room seemed to want to stare at the patron their mayor had so obviously singled out. Why do you even care? she thought irritably. It didn’t matter what they thought. 

But as she turned to thank Hancock for the drink, she realized it did matter what he thought. And she wasn’t sure she liked that any better. It wasn’t a good idea to get too close to anyone. 

“Thanks,” Susan said, indicating the bottle. “Got any Jet?” Hancock raised his brow but handed her the cartridge next to him after taking a long hit himself. She relaxed as she did the same and the familiar soporific, time-slowing effects hit her.

“Med-X yesterday, Jet today,” Hancock said. “You got a ride of choice? I’m usually a Mentats ghoul myself. Makes me feel intellectual.”

“I’ve never tried it, actually,” Susan said. “Nick told me it makes you think more deeply. I’ve been… trying not to think too much.” She shrugged, feeling like she had already revealed something she wouldn’t want just anyone to know. She was suddenly very conscious of the drifters in the room having their own quiet conversations, but possibly listening to theirs, too. 

“Hey guys,” Hancock said loudly, as if he had read her mind. “Would you mind shutting the door on your way out? Go get a round at the bar on me.” They filed out but not before giving her a variety of looks that ranged from envy to disgust to calculation. 

Susan already knew rumors would be flying soon. Clair Hutchins had been awake when she crept back to her room at the Rex this morning, and she had immediately asked Susan where she had been, eyeing her rumpled dress and tangled hair. Susan had said rather defensively that she had stayed at the State House, and emphasized that Hancock slept on the couch, but Clair had given her a look that let her know she didn’t believe a word of it. “All the drifters fall into Hancock’s bed at some point if he wants ‘em,” she had commented. 

Susan’s face had flushed with anger and shame and she wanted to argue but she didn’t know what to say. Who cared if Hancock did sleep around? It wasn’t any business of hers. But she did wonder how much truth there was to the rumors. Certainly, she had found the general attitude regarding sexual relationships in the Commonwealth to be far more… casual, than what she was used to. 

As the Jet buzz began to even out, Hancock made small talk about the town, then asked Susan a few questions about her preferences that didn’t make her feel like she was revealing too much. She could tell he wanted more information from her but didn’t want to pry. After he seemed to have exhausted his ability to ignore the elephant in the room, he turned to face her straight on. “I talked to MacCready today,” Hancock said finally. 

Susan took another long swig of whiskey. “Oh yeah?” she said flatly. “About what? Me, I suppose?”

“Yeah, doll,” Hancock said. “I’m worried about you. I don’t wanna have to bury you after you drink and Med-X yourself to death, ya feel me? You need someone to talk to about all this shit and I’m no stranger to hard knocks. So you gonna enlighten me here?”

Suddenly Susan wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything. It was too hard to keep it all in. She found the words spilling out of her; she started with the bomb falling, retreating to Vault 111 with her husband and son, waking up in a cryogenic tank and watching her baby, Shaun, being kidnapped by Kellogg. Watching Nate be murdered, being re-frozen; waking up again and heading out into the bleak wasteland that used to be a safe, happy neighborhood where she had planned a life for herself and her little family. 

Susan told Hancock, her voice breaking, about wandering through the ruins of her old home. The empty cradle. How close she had come to losing it before she found Codsworth, and his suggestion that she go to Concord. With wonder in her voice, she told him about encountering a dog at the Red Rocket Truck Stop, “Dogmeat,” she said with a shake of her head, “That’s what Mama Murphy told me his name was.” But she made it clear that no matter how silly she thought his name was, he had helped her survive her first few weeks in the Commonwealth, fighting like a wolf, standing between her and everything that tried to hurt her. “He got me all the way to Diamond City,” she said, affection in her voice.

Susan didn’t tell him how she had flung herself at the environment with no care for her own welfare, almost hoping she would die at any time just so the pain would end, but she thought Hancock understood from the way her voice shook when she talked about grabbing that minigun at Concord and attacking the deathclaw.

“I killed it,” she said wonderingly. “I was sure I was dead but instead I killed it. That’s when I thought I might have a chance.” 

She told Hancock how unstoppable the power armor had made her feel. Susan had been intelligent her whole life, perceptive, but never really what she considered strong. That armor, that incident, had given her the courage to help those people, Mama Murphy and Sturges and Preston, to set up a habitable place to live in the ruins of her old suburb. 

Susan told him how Preston Garvey had actually asked her to be the General of the Minutemen, with an expression on her face approaching panic. “The fuck? Why me? I told him I would have to think about it. But is he serious? I’m no kind of leader.” 

She told him about arriving in Diamond City, learning about the Institute, the way the people all lived in fear of being kidnapped and replaced by synths. Hancock’s face hardened when she mentioned talking to Mayor McDonough. 

When Susan told him hesitantly that she hadn’t understood why there was any controversy about ghouls because she had only seen feral ghouls up to that point, Hancock laughed humorlessly. “I musta been quite the shock, doll.” 

“A little,” Susan admitted. “But when you had my back with Finn, I knew you were just another person. A good person. Those Diamond City assholes need to learn some tolerance.” She paused. “I never felt like I fit in there, you know. Goodneighbor is more my speed.”

“Of the people, for the people,” Hancock said, nodding appreciatively. 

Finally, Susan told him about rescuing Nick Valentine, the synth detective, from Skinny Malone in Vault 114 and talking their way out of the place. About Nick helping her find out who and where Kellogg was. About leaving the detective there because she needed some time to process everything, and about striking out for Goodneighbor alone on a rumor that a sniper there would teach her and accompany her for a fee. About that difficult, harrowing trek across old Boston. 

“And that’s where you came in,” Susan said with a smile. “I was about to fall on my face after all that, and Finn trying to extort money out of me was the last thing I needed.”

“My pleasure, sunshine,” Hancock replied, the husky purr in his voice sending shivers down her spine. 

“So after training with MacCready, and with a safe place to explore the ruins thanks to you and Goodneighbor, I felt ready to take down Kellogg. I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? I’d been ready to die. I went into Fort Hagen half expecting to die. I told Mac to run if it went south. But we did it. I took Psycho Jet before I went in there and I got pretty tore up, but I killed that bastard.” Susan was shaking again but from anger now, and Hancock put his arm around her shoulders and his hand on her knee, soothing her with soft circles of his fingertips. 

“The Institute kidnapped Shaun,” she said with quiet rage. “They stole my baby. They killed my husband.” She took a deep breath. “Mac helped me get back to Diamond City, Nick helped me get back to Goodneighbor, and I went to Doctor Amari to see if we could get some information off Kellogg’s cybernetic implant. And it turns out that my baby… Is no longer a baby.” 

Susan swallowed. “He’s ten years old, and he doesn’t have any idea who I am. And he’s hidden away deep in a place no one knows how to get to. It was like everything up to then had felt so urgent, you know? I was rushing around, trying to quickly get Sanctuary settled, to quickly learn where my son was, to hurry and avenge my husband… All so I could rescue my baby, imagining him as an infant still. Suddenly all my urgency was gone. It hit me, really hit me.”

She paused. “Nate’s gone. My baby is gone. I mean, he’s still out there, but ten years have passed for him. I realized that I couldn’t just keep taking chems for every fight and trying not to die. I’m too scared, I’m too weak to survive the Commonwealth,” she confessed. “Every time I go out into the ruins, I’m terrified I won’t come back alive. When I had this huge immediate goal, I could make myself do things, even scary fucking hard things, but now that I don’t….” 

She slumped into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I just want to drink and do Med-X until I can’t feel anything,” she whispered. 

Hancock took the bottle from her and helped himself to a long drink. Susan could tell that what she said had made quite an impact on him. “That’s a helluva story, doll,” he said heavily. “I almost wouldn’t believe you except I can tell you ain’t lyin’, and Nick and Mac told me the same shit. Wasn’t there anything else Amari could do to help?”

“Yeah,” Susan replied bitterly. “She said I needed to seek out some escaped Institute scientist called Virgil in the Glowing Sea. Sure! Just march out to the most dangerous part of the Commonwealth and survive the deathclaws and radscorpions and radiation and god knows what else long enough to find some recluse who may or may not be able to help me figure out how to…” she laughed in disbelief, “TELEPORT, by the way, into the Institute to rescue a child who doesn’t even know me.” Susan took the whiskey bottle back from Hancock and he didn’t resist. He lit a cigarette and handed it to her.

“Anyway,” Susan said, taking a deep drag. “Thank you for what you did last night. That was a real low point for me. If you hadn’t showed up when you did…” She swallowed and trailed off. 

“Hell, that sorta bull’s the whole reason I became mayor in the first place,” Hancock replied. “Some ass named Vic ran the town for I don’t know how long before me. Guy was scum. Used us drifters like his own personal piggy bank. He had this goon squad he’d use to keep people in line. Every so often he’d let them off the leash, go blow off some steam on the populace at large. Folks with homes could lock their doors, but us drifters, we got it bad. There was one night, some drifter said something to them. They cracked him open like a can of Cram on the pavement. And we all just stood there. Did nothin’.” 

“Wasn’t there anyone who could’ve helped?” Susan asked, appalled, but also relieved to have the focus off her, grateful he had opened up to share something personal too. It made her feel less vulnerable. 

“Who knows. Maybe.” Hancock shrugged. “Honestly, we were all so terrified, we couldn’t bring ourselves to move until it was over, let alone get help. I felt like less than nothing.” His face was bleak. “Afterwards, I got so high, I blacked out completely. When I finally came to, I was on the floor of the Old State House. Right in front of the clothes of John Hancock.” He ran his hand down his red jacket self-consciously. “John Hancock, first American hoodlum and defender of the People. I might’ve still been high, but those clothes spoke to me, told me what I needed to do. I smashed the case, put them on, and started a new life. As Hancock. After that, I went clean for a bit, got organized, convinced Kleo to loan me some hardware. Got a crew of drifters together and headed out into the ruins, started trainin’. Next time Vic’s boys went on their tear, we’d be ready for ‘em.”

“The fact that you’re sitting here and Vic isn’t would suggest things went well?” Susan asked, fascinated by his story. 

“Oh yeah,” Hancock responded. “So the night of, we all got loaded, let Vic's boys get good and hammered, and burst from the windows and rooftops where we'd been hiding. They never even saw it comin’. We didn’t have to fire a shot.” 

He paused and his gaze hardened. “We didn’t have to. But we sure fucking did. It was a massacre. Once we'd mopped up, we strolled right into Vic's quarters in the State House, wrapped a rope around his neck, and threw him off the balcony. And there I am, gun in hand, draped in Hancock's duds, looking at all the people of Goodneighbor assembled below. I had to say somethin’. That first time I said 'em, they didn't even feel like my words: ‘Of the people, for the people!’ Was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor that day. And from then on, I vowed I'd never stand by and watch. Ever again.”

“Goodneighbor is lucky to have you,” Susan told him. “And I’m especially lucky you were watching out for me yesterday. I felt like I wanted to give up last night, but you reminded me there are still good people in this world, people worth fighting for. Hell, I feel so inspired, I might just go get myself killed in a nuclear blast site,” she added sarcastically, rolling her eyes. It still seemed like an impossible task.

“I might be able to help,” Hancock said suddenly. Then he laughed. “Who better to take into a nuclear blast site than a ghoul? I eat rads for dinner. I take vacations in the Glowing Sea.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Susan replied honestly, emotions she couldn’t name surging through her. “I don’t feel like I’m up for it, frankly. You’d probably just die trying to keep me alive. I feel like everything happens too quickly for me to process. I’m just not good enough.”

“We could spend some time together trainin’ in the ruins if you want,” Hancock offered. “Like I did with my crew when we were aimin’ to take down Vic. I know lots of good spots around here where raiders and greenskins hole up. I could watch your back while you figure shit out.”

Susan studied him. “Are you serious? Why are you offering to do all this for me? I haven’t done anything for you. This is a hell of an undertaking. Especially going into the Glowing Sea. You’d have to be away from Goodneighbor for a while. You could die. You’ll have to kill. That’s not something I feel like I could ask just anyone.” 

“I ain’t just anyone.” Hancock winked at her. Then his expression got serious again. “Lemme tell ya. This classy little tricorner hat of mine is getting heavy. Am I turning into the man? Some kind of tyrant? I spend all my time putting down the people I would've been proud to scheme with just a few years ago. I need to take a walk again. Get a grip on what really matters: Living free.” 

“I’m glad to have your help,” Susan said, still studying him. “I still don’t totally understand though.”

“If someone needs help, I help 'em. If someone needs hurtin', I hurt 'em. It's not hard. Goodneighbor is about doing your own thing. If I don't leave every once and a while, the power's gonna change me. Can't have that.” He made it sound like the simplest thing in the world.

Susan laughed, her mood somewhat lighter. “You make everything seem easier, Hancock.” 

“I try, sunshine. I try.” He brought her hand to his mouth slowly. “Call me John,” Hancock purred, his gravelly tone sending a pleasant chill up her spine, and although the kiss he gave her hand was chaste, the look he gave her was far from it.


	3. Just a Little Change: 57 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock and Susan have been training together for a few weeks, and she’s learning how to survive. Hancock teaches Susan something, and then she teaches him something. Their relationship takes a step forward, and Susan wants something deeper, but how will she deal with Hancock’s promiscuous past? And her secret?

“Dammit!” Susan said through clenched teeth. She and Hancock were crouched in a corner in a room in the Four Leaf Fishpacking plant and dead feral ghouls lay around them in heaps. She jabbed a Stimpack needle into her arm and waited while the torn flesh of her arm slowly knitted itself back together. 

It was not painless, and Hancock saw how she gritted her teeth; this was the fourth one she’d had to use, and he was thinking about suggesting they just leave without getting the fusion core they knew must be on the roof. They’d already gotten two of them, and he didn’t know if Susan could handle another swarm of ferals. She looked exhausted. 

“What did you do wrong, sister?” Hancock said in his droning teacher voice. 

Susan gave him an irritated look, flexing her fingers to check mobility. They’d gotten her left arm, and she was left-handed, so it was vital to let the limb heal fully before moving out again.

“I don’t know,” she said plaintively. “They just… There’s too many. They’re too fast.”

“That’s right, doll,” Hancock said. “They’re comin’ in packs, too many for you to kill them all before they get to us. So, what do you do?”

It was a real pleasure for Hancock to see the change in her face from frustration to realization. “Keep them from getting to us,” Susan answered. 

“That’s it, sunshine.”

“And how do I do that? And how do they always find us?”

“You’re getting scary good with headshots, and I know part of it is MacCready’s training. Trust me when I say I wouldn’t want to be on your bad side at the pointy end of a .308 even from the other side of the Commonwealth.” 

Susan gave him a grudging smile. Hancock continued. “But you do occasionally miss, and that’s wasted time and a wasted bullet. Then when the rest of the pack starts to rush at you, you panic. You pull out your shotgun too late to help or start hitting torso shots just hoping to kill them all. But you can’t because it takes a few good shots to the torso to take a tough feral down. What can you almost always hit, though? You can see the heads-up display on your VATS better than I can.”

“Legs,” she replied, a thoughtful look crossing her face. 

“Legs,” he agreed. “Always take out the legs of the one closest to us and keep moving backwards. Better to have a mess of ferals limping towards you than even one rushing at your neck. Make sense?”

“Yeah,” she said. “And I feel kind of stupid I hadn’t thought of it before. Nate was the military one, not me.”

“You’re one of the dumbest smart people I know when it comes to fighting,” Hancock teased her. “You were probably overthinking it.”

“That’s kind of my MO,” Susan said with a wink, and he laughed, grateful her mercurial mood had shifted. “All right, let’s keep going.”

“Nah doll, I’m tired and hungry and I know you must be, too. Did you even eat lunch? We can come back here to get that last core. It’s time for a break,” Hancock said persuasively. 

What he really wanted was to have Susan back at the Rail, cuddled up on the couch with him, full of Jet and beer. The beer was so much better since they had brought a Drinkin’ Buddy to the Rexford from the Shamrock Taphouse, but he was really looking forward to putting his arm around her and whispering things into her ear about the people around him that made her laugh until everyone was looking at them, wondering what the joke was. Hancock would kill to hear that laughter. 

“I’m not hungry,” Susan said stubbornly, a frown forming between her brows, but suddenly her stomach growled, making her a liar. “Oh, very well,” she grumbled. Hancock offered her his hand and she took it, and he helped her up. They crept out of the plant stealthily just in case they had missed any ferals.

“You’re gettin’ better,” Hancock told her on the walk back to Goodneighbor, and Susan nodded, seeming to take comfort in his statement, although doubt still covered her face. “Oh and,” he paused, wondering if she would grasp the significance of his comment. “They find us because they can smell us. Ghouls have an excellence sense of smell.” Susan just nodded again, absorbing that bit of information like she did everything else.

“I’ll meet you at the Rail,” she said to him as they came through the front gate. 

Hancock grinned because he knew she was always achy and sweaty when she got back from the ruins, and she liked to wash up and ‘dress for dinner,’ as she called it. She would show up with her long blonde hair carefully brushed and having dressed neatly. Susan was almost obsessive about cleanliness. He knew she spent part of her income on purified water just to wash her face.

“Are you gonna come back to the State House for a cuddle tonight?” Hancock asked her before he let go of her hand. Susan hesitated. “You can have a bath if you want,” he added. 

“You fight dirty,” she replied. 

“That mean you’re comin’?” Hancock persisted. Her shy nod tightened things low in his body. Their cuddle routine had quickly become one of his favorite parts of any day. He watched her dash to the Rexford to get ready.

She would also probably abuse some drugs while she was up there, Hancock thought to himself. Not that he was in any place to judge. He knew what it felt like to try to hide an addiction, to try to bury a pain that never went away. She was doing better. At least she wasn’t actively trying to kill herself. 

In fact, Susan had bloomed since that night he offered to help her. It was like she had realized that she had lost everything she ever loved, and had given up that night he interrupted her assault. But all it had taken was one real connection with another person to make her realize that just because she had lost everything, it didn’t mean she couldn’t eventually find something new that made life worth living, something real. That connection, that person, had been him, and whether they had something real remained to be seen, but at least there was that hope. For her… and for Hancock. 

He’d even given her some authority in town. She had been so helpful with setting up supply lines through her contacts, which included the Minutemen, the Railroad, and to his surprise, even the Brotherhood, that they had fresh food to eat almost every night in Goodneighbor. Hancock had left orders with Whitechapel Charlie that all her meals were on the house, since they had those kinds of meals to begin with because of her. And he had asked her to step in a few times with the meet-and-greet he often did with new drifters. Susan was practically a deputy mayor. 

Hancock strolled into the VIP room at the Third Rail later with his thoughts full of the vault dweller, Susan… He let the name roll off his tongue. He’d never called her that, not to her face. He didn’t register who was actually there until she spoke.

“Heya, Mayor Hancock,” she said a thick, familiar Boston accent. “It’s Trish, remember? Not Susan,” she giggled. Seated where the vault dweller usually sat, Trish lit a cigarette and flashed him what she probably thought was a provocative look. In the chair on the other side of his favorite sofa sat her friend, Jackie. The three of them had occasionally engaged in private activities when the pair passed through, many of which had started similarly to this. 

“Hey ladies,” Hancock said genially, inwardly cursing his luck. All he wanted to do was sit in silence for a few minutes, do some Jet and drink some beer with Susan when she showed up, and then go back to the State House to hold the woman he was pretty sure he was falling in love with. Sure, all he’d gotten from her so far was a cuddle, but he had high hopes. “What brings you to Goodneighbor?”

“Just passin’ through,” Trish said, fluttering her eyelashes. “Thought we’d see if you wanted to have a little fun, maybe.”

“We had such a nice time last time we came through,” Jackie added, running her hand down her leg. 

“I remember,” Hancock said less than enthusiastically, wishing he could think of a polite way to say, ‘Fuck off.’ Susan could show up any time. 

Trish pouted. “Whatsa matter, Hancock? Thought you’d be happier to see us.” She put her hand on his shoulder. 

Hancock reminded himself they had no idea how busy he’d been recently running out in the ruins, or how his attitude had changed since meeting the vault dweller, Susan. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Maybe we can catch up later.” He’d still have to deal with them later, but at least he might get a quiet evening alone.

Trish and Jackie were not so easily deterred. “We’ll do all the work, baby,” Jackie said, reaching over to stroke his thigh. 

The sound of a feminine throat being cleared, loudly, brought all their attention to the door. Susan stood there, her green eyes assessing the situation with lightning speed; Jackie’s hand on his thigh, Trish caressing his shoulder. For a moment, Hancock thought she might turn and run. Then a slow, cocky smile spread over her face, and she flipped her blonde hair as she stepped into the room.

This shit is about to get real, thought Hancock, and he stood up and took a few steps towards her, wondering if he should try to pull her aside and explain the situation. 

But Susan didn’t seem to require an explanation. Instead, she darted around him and took his empty seat, and he turned around to watch her warily. With a brightly false smile, she turned her attention to Trish. 

“Hello there,” she said in way that probably sounded friendly if you didn’t know her. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Susan.”

“Hi. I’m Trish. That’s Jackie. Hancock mentioned you, actually,” Trish said, eyeing her up and down. Susan had collapsed comfortably into Hancock’s spot as if she sat there every day and had no intention of ever moving. 

“Did he?” Susan said, idly examining her fingernails. “Funny. He never mentioned you.” 

The veiled insult hung in the air for a second. Hancock was too surprised to even move, and he could see Trish’s mouth opening and closing like a fish. “So, what brings you to Goodneighbor?” Susan included Jackie in the question with a turn of her head, a nod to her, and an amused expression.

“Just passin’ through,” Trish said again, but without the eyelash fluttering. Both drifters were looking at Susan like she was a viper they’d found in their bunk. 

“I know what it’s like, not having a steady place to stay,” Susan said in compassionate voice. Her face held nothing but pleasant concern. “How long are you planning to be in town?”

“Maybe a week or so,” Jackie said. 

Susan nodded sagely. “I’m sure we can find you a nice place to stay for a week,” she said magnanimously. She looked up at Hancock for the first time, including him in her ‘we’. “They owe me a favor over at the Rex, anyway. Have you eaten?” she added quickly, leaning towards Trish as if genuinely concerned about her answer. 

“Not tonight,” Trish replied, looking bemused, and Jackie just shook her head. 

“Why don’t you go grab something over at the bar?” Susan suggested smoothly. “On the house. I really must make a private report to the mayor now,” she said, smiling up at Hancock. “I’ll send someone over to the Rex to arrange a room for you when we’re finished eating. Can you close the door behind you? Oh, and ask Chuck to come in and take our order, if it’s no trouble,” she added. 

The two drifters, who looked dumbfounded, both obediently got up and walked out. Jackie pulled the door shut behind her. “Goodnight, ladies,” Hancock said to them belatedly. He turned back to Susan, chuckling, expecting to see her face filled with triumph at her deft handling of the situation, but she was staring at her hands, lips pursed.

“Hey sunshine,” he said, and she scooted over to her normal spot so he could take his. When Hancock sat down, Susan collapsed against him. 

“Hey you,” she said softly. 

“What the hell was that all about?” Hancock asked. When Susan didn’t respond, he took her chin in his hand and repeated his question. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said primly. 

“You eviscerated them,” Hancock said with an evil chuckle.

“I didn’t!” Susan protested, but she couldn’t stop the smile fighting at the edge of her mouth. “I was as friendly as friendly can be.” Hancock looked at her sideways, the amusement clear on his face. “I WAS,” she insisted. “I offered them shelter and food, I expressed an interest in their lives…” 

Hancock could no longer keep a straight face, and he buried his laughter in her shoulder as she protested, giggling, her pure intentions. “When Trish’s mouth was opening and closing like that, I thought about throwing some Mentats in there,” he chortled, and soon they were both snorting laughter.

Whitechapel Charlie came in to take their dinner order, and they ate quickly. When they were finished, the robot came back in to clear everything away and Susan asked him to take care of the room at the Rex for the other women. “Tell them to put it on my tab,” she added generously, and Hancock started laughing again at the pious look on her face. She giggled along with him.

After Hancock composed himself, he caught Susan watching him with the most mischievous expression he’d ever seen on her face. “You’re a helluva woman,” he said gruffly. “You know that?”

“I know,” she said, her green gaze stabbing him. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Hancock replied, his voice husky. Susan just nodded.

Walking through the Rail with Trish and Jackie eating at the bar and every patron watching them was an experience that Hancock tried to take in stride and Susan hardly seemed to notice. Like many times when he was with her, she seemed to be listening to music that no one else could hear and thinking things no one else could understand. ‘Half in, half out,’ she had described herself whimsically when he brought it up. 

Susan only came back to him when they arrived at the State House. Hancock didn’t try to lead her to his office. He ignored Nicky’s expression when he took her straight into his bedroom. His arms were aching to stroke her dangerous curves. The expression on her face, alight with knowledge and wonder and contemplation, would’ve made him hard even if her graceful movements and slender loveliness hadn’t. 

As if by mutual consent, they stretched out on their usual sides. Although Hancock walked Susan back to her room most nights, she had slept at the State House plenty of times. Their cuddle routine was becoming standard; basically like that first night, but less awkward. And he always retreated to his office to try to quench the burning in his loins. Tonight felt different, and although he knew she felt it too, he could also feel her anxiety. 

Hancock tucked her into the nook between his arm and his torso, and Susan cuddled up next to him tightly, her hand in the same spot on his chest it always was. Her fingertips fluttered like she was having a hard time keeping them still, though. After a few minutes, she spoke. “Is it okay if I… touch you?”

Hancock chuckled throatily. “You even gotta ask? You can touch me anywhere you want, sunshine,” he purred, turning his head to regard her.

Susan snorted a laugh. “I was just wondering what your skin felt like. Other than your hands. For purely clinical reasons, of course. Scientific curiosity.” She slid her long fingers inside the collar of his coat as she spoke, caressing his upper chest, his neck. 

Hancock closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her gentle touch on his chin, his cheeks, his forehead; she hesitated when her fingers stroked the edge of where his nose used to be, but a kiss to her palm encouraged her to complete her exploration of his face. Her fingertips sketched a line down to what remained of his ear, and she tenderly brushed it with her thumb before cupping her hand around his head. 

Susan seemed to realize that she couldn’t touch much more of him without removing some of his clothes, and she withdrew her hand back demurely to her chest. She smiled at him shyly when he opened his eyes. 

“Is it my turn now?” Hancock asked, a husky purr in his voice.

Her eyes widened, and a faint blush came to her pale cheeks. “Okay,” Susan whispered, and he shifted to face her. Hancock took her hand and pulled her unresisting arm up so that he could gently stroke her from her palm to her elbow, down her sensitive upper arm, stopping to tickle under her arm, making her giggle; he continued down her side, the tip of his thumb just barely brushing the swell of her breast, his fingers flaring out over her round hip. Her quiet noises and the hitches in her breathing told him well enough how effective his touch was, and he could feel her yearning towards him. 

Hancock trailed his hand back up her body along her spine, buried his fingers in her hair briefly, then gently touched her face in the same way she had his. He brought his hand back up to her palm and started over again, more slowly, letting himself linger on the places where she reacted the most, brushing fingertips across her smooth collarbone, around the curve of her breast, in the crease of her groin. 

Encouraged by her muffled moans, Hancock slid his hand under her dress, cupping her buttock and then gliding his fingertips lightly over her panties, touching her through the thin layer of fabric. 

Suddenly Susan stiffened up, tension filling her whole body. She reached out an unsteady arm and pulled his hand back up to her side. Her eyes were open but she wasn’t looking at him, and he didn’t understand the distress on her face. Respectfully, Hancock moved away slightly and took his hand off her. 

After a few seconds she rolled over, away from him, tucking her hands up under her face. He was wondering just what the fuck he had done wrong when she reached over and pulled his arm around her like usual, pressing her back into the front of him. 

Hancock felt sharply disappointed, and he found he couldn’t just let it go. As he had told her earlier, as a ghoul, he possessed an excellent sense of smell. And just before Susan had shut off, he had smelled the heat of her arousal bloom like a flower. The scent hung in the air now like an expensive perfume as he inhaled deeply. 

“I know you want me,” Hancock purred into her ear, his hand sliding down to rest heavily on her hip. He was close enough to feel her heart rate speed up.

“I bet you wish I had just turned and walked out of the VIP room tonight, so you could have that threesome,” Susan said, oh, so quietly, destroying any fantasy he might have harbored about what she had or had not perceived about the scene from earlier tonight. 

“No, sunshine,” Hancock said. “I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else, with anybody else.” 

It seemed as if she might say something else, but then she shuddered and pressed her back into him. He just wrapped his arm around her and held her as he knew she wanted.  


	4. Ever a Surprise: 59 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan has a combat victory, and she shows Hancock her gratefulness with a surprise kiss. But will it go any farther? Susan gets some good news from the doctor. But how will she tell Hancock?

Susan walked slowly, taking long drags off her cigarette as she prolonged the short walk from the Rex to the State House as much as she reasonably could. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Hancock. Truthfully, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

He was right, of course. She did want him. Hancock pushed all her buttons. 

The slow tide of desire that had filled her as he gently stroked her bare skin was undeniable. The fact that he was a ghoul didn’t seem to matter at all, not to her at least. Nate was gone, and although she would never have imagined finding someone she could care about again, especially so quickly, there was something about Hancock that attracted her in a way she couldn’t deny. 

Susan knew she should just tell him the truth. But when the hell was a good time to bring that kind of thing up? Surely not when they were already high as a kite in bed groping each other like teenagers. Not in the warm red light of the VIP room when drifters or Fahrenheit or Emogene might pop in any moment. That was the cause of her reluctance. Her dark, terrible secrets were looming between them even in the day now. Hancock had been patient with her, ever so patient and understanding, but he was a man, and one who was used to intimacy on a regular basis. 

Although Susan knew she didn’t owe him or anyone else sex, the inequity of their relationship felt heavy on her side. Sometimes she felt like she was just using him for chems and safety. When it really came down to it, wasn’t that kind of what was happening? She teased him by letting him touch her, by laying in his bed, by pulling back some curtains and letting him have a peek but never letting him in. Didn’t she? Hancock had offered to hold her that night she was assaulted, and for the many nights since that they had spent twined together like lovers at the old State House. But how long could she expect him to maintain this platonic yet intimate relationship? It felt selfish. She needed to explain, but she didn’t know how. 

Today, Susan decided, she would talk to Doctor Amari when they returned from the ruins. Hancock already knew she saw the doctor regularly for her thyroid condition, so he wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. But she knew Amari would immediately discern the nature of her questions. Would she talk? Rumors already flew about them, especially after Hancock had failed to return to his office to sleep two nights ago. Susan had dealt with it by escaping into the ruins with her stealth boy all day yesterday, hiding her secret, and by eating in her room or the Rail instead of the Rex, but she would have to face the whispers at some point. 

When she finished her cigarette and got up the courage to walk into the State House, Hancock was waiting for her.

“Hey sunshine,” Hancock said, and his knowing smile brought a grin and a blush to her own face. 

“Hey you,” she replied. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Hancock said in his gravelly voice. 

Susan thought about making a joke about getting right on it with no foreplay, but she decided, considering the circumstances, it was probably in bad taste. Instead, she just nodded and they headed out into the ruins, east again towards the fish packing plant. 

Watching Hancock fight was like foreplay, actually. She loved the smooth way he moved, the confidence in him as he swung his shotgun around, his fierceness and strength. Sometimes she could feel her body responding, which didn’t exactly help her concentration.

This time, Susan kept in mind the advice Hancock had given her. She could tell that although he was watching her back as usual, he was letting her take point and make all the decisions that would determine how the fight went. Soon Susan was fully engrossed in the battle for survival, and even Hancock’s presence wasn’t enough to distract her. For a short time, she forgot all her worries as she surrendered to the void, to the movements of combat, to the feel of her weapon. When a horde of ghouls crawled out of the walls on the top floor and began to race at her, she calmly shot legs until all the ferals were dragging their bodies towards her with their arms, and she and Hancock were able to dispatch them easily. They made it to the roof and pushed the door open.

“I did it!” Susan exclaimed, putting her shotgun away, hardly believing what had just happened. She hadn’t needed one Stimpak. “We did it!” She turned to face Hancock, and suddenly felt such an overwhelming rush of gratitude towards him that she couldn’t contain it. She leaned forward, took his face in both her hands, and planted a kiss on his lips. Then she turned back to look out at the blue sky, feeling ecstatic at their victory.

“We did it,” Hancock agreed quietly, and the change in his tone made Susan look back at him. He wore the strangest expression on his face that she had ever seen. And it hit her. She had kissed him. They stared at each other in silence until it started to feel awkward.

He suddenly moved away and towards the generator, saying, “Let’s grab that core and get the hell out of here,” and Susan felt relief that he wasn’t making a big deal out of it. She could tell Hancock was thinking about that kiss, though. And so was she. 

The flush rose back to her cheeks as he came up to her with the fusion core in hand, standing close to her. It was the first time she had felt his lips against hers. They felt good, warm and only slightly rough. Susan wished she could reach out and touch them with her fingers. Why hadn’t she touched his lips more the other night in his bed? She wanted to examine them in detail. 

“Well done,” Hancock said crisply, apparently unaware of her internal struggle not to touch his face. “You didn’t miss a beat that time. I think we’re almost there.” He paused, and the grin came back onto his face. “Almost feel bad for all the unlucky denizens of the Glowing Sea when they meet you.” 

Susan just nodded. They collected what gear seemed worth keeping and trooped back to Goodneighbor. Hancock tried to start a conversation with her a few times, but she was having a hard time concentrating.

Back in town, Hancock put his arm around her shoulders. “You deserve a break, sunshine. Let’s hit the Rail and celebrate.”

Susan suddenly remembered her resolution to talk to Amari today. She kept her face smooth so he wouldn’t see the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. “Sounds great,” she said casually. “I’ll meet you there in a bit. I just need to chat with the doctor first, okay? And get cleaned up. Thanks for everything, John.”

Hancock nodded and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss before turning away. “Don’t take too long, sister, I could use some Jet after all that.” 

“Don’t start without me!” she said warningly, and he chuckled as he walked away. Susan sighed, and went into the Memory Den to find Doctor Amari. 

The doctor was in her office, and she looked up from her computer in surprise as Susan hesitantly poked her head into the room. “I don’t usually see you after you’ve been out with someone,” Amari said in her clipped accent. “Weren’t you with Mayor Hancock today? Is everything all right?”

“Yes, doctor,” Susan replied. “I just wanted to… talk to you about something.”

“Is it the thyroid medication?” Amari turned back to the monitor. “I got the samples you sent me yesterday and I’ve dissected them but it will take a few more days to desiccate them properly. You still have some of what I gave you last time, don’t you?” the doctor asked, half of her attention clearly still on her computer. 

“Yes, doctor,” Susan said again. “I still have plenty.” She swallowed. That was one of the few things she hadn’t told Hancock about. Sure, he knew she had some kind of medical condition, and the huge scar on her neck was clearly visible when her hair was swept back, but he didn’t know the details, really. When she had explained her thyroid was surgically removed, all he had said was that he thought the scar looked too neat for a knife fight. And he had asked if the doctor was taking care of her, and she had assured him that was the case.

What Hancock didn’t know was that when she crept out alone into the ruins, killing super mutants and ghouls, she was cutting out their thyroids with her combat knife and bringing them back to Amari for desiccation. Without a synthetic source of thyroid hormone, it was the only way to keep her alive. She had hope the doctor might be able to replicate the formula at some point, but until then, it was her secret. One of her secrets. 

Not even the hardest one for her right now. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else,” Susan said delicately. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sack of caps, tossing them onto the doctor’s desk.

Amari’s eyebrows went up and she turned her full attention to Susan. “What’s this?”

“A consultation fee,” Susan said. A bribe, she thought. 

“That’s not necessary,” Amari said. 

“Please,” Susan said. “Just keep it.”

“Very well,” Amari said, her interest obviously piqued. “What’s this all about?”

Susan looked down at her lap. “I have some questions,” she said.

“Go ahead,” Amari said patiently.

Susan took a deep breath and then exhaled. You’ve come this far, she thought. Just say it. “I was wondering if it was… safe… for a human to be intimate with…. With a non-human,” she finished in a rush. 

Amari’s eyebrow went up. “Is this idle curiosity, or do you have a particular non-human in mind? For example, I wouldn’t suggest trying to have an intimate relationship with a super mutant or a feral ghoul.”

Susan flushed. “That’s not quite what I meant.” But she didn’t, couldn’t make herself elaborate.

“I don’t suppose this has something do with our illustrious mayor?” the doctor asked dryly. Susan could only nod. “Well, I’m no expert in ghoul physiology. But I have had the opportunity to study Hancock in depth, which is more than most doctors can say. Including regular physical examinations to check his progress. I’m not sure he would appreciate my discussing intimate details of his medical record with someone else, however.”

Susan met the doctor’s gaze, trying to convey her urgency - her desperate need for information - with a look of entreaty. “Please,” she said softly. “I’m not asking for you to betray anyone’s secrets. Just… whatever you can tell me would help.”

“I see,” Amari said, examining her. She seemed to make a decision. “Very well. What I have learned about the ghoulification process is that for different subjects, the change from human to ghoul happens at different rates. When it’s a rapid change, the effects of it, including damage to the skin and cartilage, are fairly short term. What I mean by that is that the damage that is done doesn’t continue to spread once the exposure ends. You’ve met older ghouls like Daisy. If she had continued to decline, she would be a skeleton by now. Ghouls aren’t like the zombies of old human mythology with pieces dropping off of them. Their bodies are generally stable and the decay is limited to the ghoulification incident, unless the subject goes feral.” 

She paused as Susan absorbed this information. “And as you are probably aware, ghouls are more than capable of having sexual relationships with human beings. With the side benefit of not worrying about diseases, or pregnancy, since ghouls are sterile. Mayor Hancock has proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt, actually.”

Susan cringed at the reminder of Hancock’s well-known promiscuity. It wasn’t that she was a prude or anything, it’s just that monogamy had been the order of the day before the war, and she had followed it faithfully despite sometimes feeling like it wasn’t natural. 

“Yes,” she replied flatly. “So I’ve heard.”

“Was that everything?” the doctor asked. 

“No,” Susan said. “There’s… something else.” 

“Go on,” Amari said.

“I know this isn’t your field of expertise,” Susan said, her gaze dropping once again to her lap. “But have you ever heard the term… hysterectomy?”


	5. Bittersweet and Strange: 59 days continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan can no longer hide her attraction to Hancock, and they share an intimate moment. Hancock gets called away, and Susan gets an earful from Emogene. Hancock’s history and Susan’s secret stand between them. Not to mention the good people of Goodneighbor.

Susan strode into the Third Rail a short while later, feeling more confident than she had for some time. Not only had they cleared out that plant, but the doctor’s physical examination had reassured her, even if her continual disclaimers about her lack of knowledge didn’t. 

She smiled wryly remembering the way both of Amari’s eyebrows had gone up at her question. ‘Gynecology isn’t my specialty,’ she had said, ‘but I am aware of the procedure. No one that I know of performs it in the Commonwealth, however.’ Of course, they didn’t. And so, no one knew how to deal with any possible side effects or negative outcomes, either. 

But all evidence suggested Susan was healed and as healthy as possible considering the situation. All she had to do was be brave enough to explain it all to the person to whom it mattered. Nate’s face swam up into her vision. She had never had to worry about him hurting her. He knew everything about her medical condition. 

But Nate was gone. Out of her life for three months and, if her information was correct, dead for over ten years. Hancock was the one she needed to think about. Hancock was the one she needed to explain things to, so he would understand why she yearned for him but held herself apart. Tonight, she thought firmly. 

Ham gave Susan a smile and she returned it, clasping his shoulder warmly. “Hey hon,” she said. “Is Hancock in?” 

“Downstairs, waitin’ for you,” Ham laughed. “He was grumbling about waitin’ to do Jet or something when he came in, but he was in a good mood.”

“Great,” Susan said with a wink. “Thanks, sugar.” 

“My pleasure,” Ham grinned.

A murmur went up as she entered the main room of the Rail. Magnolia was singing, and Susan enjoyed the sweet sound while she quietly greeted the drifters and residents she recognized in the bar. Most of them, it was, now. The door to the VIP room was closed, but when she peeked through the small round window, Hancock saw her and gestured for her to come in. He was deep in conversation with Fahrenheit. 

“Listen, that piece of shit Louie lied to me. He said he was gonna intercept that shipment and have it rerouted here. Instead, I find out he had it delivered to Diamond City!” Hancock’s anger was apparent. “Using my resources!” 

Susan stopped in front of the couch somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry, doll,” he said, turning his attention to her. “Just a little logistical problem. Nothing to concern yourself with.” He gestured her into her spot and she self-consciously sat just close enough to him so he could put his arm around her, which he did.

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes ostentatiously. “What do you want me to do about it? The information I got from that drifter was that Louie was just outside of town. Do you want me and some of the Triggermen to go collect him?” Fahrenheit asked. 

Hancock shook his head. He seemed deep in thought. “Nah,” he said after a minute. “But keep an eye out. That dipshit steps into the perimeter, you detain him and come get me. Don’t kill him. I wanna have a chat with him.”

“Fine,” Fahrenheit said like it didn’t matter to her. She looked back and forth from him to Susan. “I suppose you want me to shut the door on my way out?” she asked in a bored voice. 

“Be a lamb,” Hancock growled. His bodyguard was laughing as she left. Susan felt her face flushing again. Seems to be my day for it, she thought.

“Hey, sunshine,” he said huskily, using his arm on her shoulders to turn her to face him. 

Susan smiled, unable to suppress the thrill she got from having Hancock’s complete attention. She loved it when he held her like this, when he brought their gazes together for a moment, loved the feel of his arm sheltering her, holding her to him. 

“Hey you,” Susan said, almost shyly. Her heart was pounding. 

Everything seemed different since her chat with the doctor. Or maybe it was the kiss she had surprised him with earlier. Either way, he seemed aware of it, too, and Hancock held her turned to him longer than usual, studying her smooth face as she studied his ravaged one. Susan felt incapable of speaking, stuck like a butterfly on a pin by his sharp gaze. 

When Hancock gently eased her back against the couch, she went with reluctance, and when she saw the cocky grin on his face, she knew he must have sensed the effect he was having on her. “What’s the story, mornin’ glory? You ready for a whiskey or you wanna start with Jet?” He laughed. “Or both? This is a celebration, toots. You wrecked that plant today.” 

Susan relaxed a little at his light, jovial tone. “I did, didn’t I?” she said, still feeling full of wonder at how smoothly it had gone. Her skills had skyrocketed with Hancock’s help. Their successful forays into the ruins over the last few weeks had emboldened her. She felt ready to take on almost anything in the Commonwealth as long as she had her guns and her power armor. But strangely, the thought of getting high off her ass didn’t hold the same appeal it had a few weeks ago. She was high on something else… Someone else. But she just said, “Whiskey sounds good,” and he got up to get the bottle. 

Hancock opened the door, somewhat to her disappointment, and a few people wandered in, including Emogene Cabot, who Susan had helped return from a religious cult a few weeks previously. Since then, she had been conspicuously present in the Third Rail. Susan found her attitude off-putting, and it seemed to be mutual. 

“A toast to the Sole Survivor,” Hancock said loudly, surprising her from her thoughts. “She cleared out the Four Leaf Fishpacking plant today!” Everyone in the room looked at her and raised their glasses. Even Emogene gave her a mocking salute with her drink, and she could hear people out in the main room of the Rail toasting her, too.

Uncomfortable with all the attention, Susan took a long pull of whiskey. He never called her that. Sole Survivor. She didn’t think she liked it. It was too much of a reminder of what she had lost. 

What followed felt exhausting for Susan. All she wanted to do was have Hancock alone for a while. Her resolution to tell him about her medical condition felt like it slowly slipped away as the evening wore on. She hit the Jet a few times just to keep her mood up. People kept talking to her. They all wanted to hear about the fishpacking plant, the glowing feral ghoul that moved faster than anything should. Then they wanted to hear about the other missions she and Hancock had been running in the ruins, and her supply chain efforts. A surprising amount of people seemed to have wanted to talk to her for quite some time, and Hancock’s declaration had apparently emboldened then. 

Susan was starting to feel strained to the point of snapping a few hours later when she realized the two of them were alone in the VIP room again. Hurriedly she got up and closed the door. Hancock gave her a questioning look as she plopped back onto the sofa, and she motioned for him to hand her the Jet.

“That was fun and all,” Susan explained, “but I need a break. I’m not as social as you are, remember, John?” She took a long hit from the cartridge he handed her. 

Hancock chuckled and put out his cigarette before putting his arm around her, just as she was hoping he would. “Just tryna make sure you know how important you are around here. To all the good people of Goodneighbor.” Especially me, his tone seemed to say. Susan studied him in profile. Her hand crept up to her face and she brushed her fingertips against her own lips as she studied his. 

“What’s on your mind, sunshine?” Hancock purred, still not looking at her although a smile played with the corners of his mouth. When she didn’t immediately respond, feeling mesmerized by his lips, he chuckled again, evilly. “Can’t help starin’, huh? That’s right. Take it all in.”

Susan blushed for what felt like the dozenth time that day, thinking about how much she wanted to take it all in, but this blush was different; the blood rushing into her cheeks felt like it moved her forward. Her heart thumped crazily, and she didn’t know if it was just the Jet or her adrenaline or something else, but time slowed to a crawl as he turned his face to hers. 

She realized she was leaning over, pressed against him, her hands tucked into her lap demurely but her breasts touching his red coat, and she licked her lips, thinking, Yes. This is it. Kiss him. You know you want to. Hancock wants you to.

Would Nate want her to?

Susan froze. But time was slowed. She had plenty of time to think about leaning back, laughing maybe, making a joke out of it, backing out somehow, standing up, escaping…

Hancock moved the last few inches that separated them and pressed his lips against hers, gently at first, oh so gently, and Susan knew she could pull away if she wanted to, but her brain felt flooded with the information she was getting from kissing him; all the questions she had about how his mouth felt and tasted were being answered. The skin was dry, rough but warm, uneven but firm. Susan kissed him back, her eyes closing, her mouth yielding to his tongue gently stroking the tip of hers, her lips parting so he could explore further; the inside of his mouth felt like any other man’s. 

Hancock kissed her expertly, passionately, his hand tangling in her long hair, caressing her neck, then gliding down her arm to her waist. He cradled her hip, and then with one smooth movement pulled her lower body over next to his so she was pressed against him instead of leaning over. Susan gasped.

Hancock never stopped kissing her while he did it, although he chuckled a little at her sharp intake of breath. Susan felt dizzy from the overt eroticism and expertise of it. God, he pushed her buttons. She kissed him with more urgency, putting her hand on his neck and sliding it back and forth along his shoulder, down his arm. 

It was like the rest of the world dropped away. There was no Commonwealth, no Institute, no Goodneighbor, no Third Rail. There was just Hancock and there was her, Susan, finally letting herself take a step forward into this new life that had been forced upon her instead of just dwelling in the past. It felt so good, kissing him. He tasted like smoke and Jet and bourbon; he smelled like gun oil and leather and musk. 

She moaned softly into his mouth as he slid his hand up her leg to her knee, then slowly up her thigh, under her dress. She wanted to throw her legs onto his lap and cling to him. It was tonight, she decided; tonight was the night she would tell him, and if all went well, their relationship might take a leap forward. The thought filled her with a combination of lust and dread.

Hancock was pausing between kisses now that the initial immediacy had passed, and he studied her searchingly as he did so. Susan opened her eyes and let herself take in every detail of him, while he did the same to her, although when he stopped for too long she pulled his head back toward her. 

“Uh, boss?” Fahrenheit said in a loud and mocking voice as she pushed open the door to the VIP room and found them embracing. “Think you can stop your little make-out session long enough to get a report on that Louie asshole?” 

Susan had jerked away in surprise when the mayor’s bodyguard busted in on them, but now the flush in her cheeks was partly from anger as she realized Fahrenheit had just announced what they were doing to the entire Third Rail. Not that she was ashamed, of course. It just wasn’t anyone else’s business. 

Hancock, to his credit, didn’t even look away from Susan, and she could see the anger simmering in his eyes, too, at the rude interruption. “Yeah,” he said coldly. “Sit down and I’ll take your report when I’m ready.” Slowly he pulled away from Susan, sliding his hand reluctantly back down to her knee then releasing her altogether, removing his other arm from behind her shoulders. 

“Sorry, sunshine,” he said in his husky purr. “Got a situation I need to take care of. Shouldn’t take too long, though. Wanna meet me at the State House in about an hour? I’ll send Chuck in to see if you need anything.”

Hancock stood up and turned to his bodyguard. “Let’s go,” he said roughly. 

Susan didn’t respond. She felt like Fahrenheit’s arrival had punctured her bubble ruthlessly, and her plan to tell Hancock the truth tonight seemed like an impossible task again. She didn’t nod or say yes, she would meet him at the State House. He seemed to take it as a given, and that bitch Fahrenheit gave her another dismissive smirk as she left. 

That look said, I’ve seen dozens like you, you’re just the mayor’s latest toy. 

Susan sat there while her blood pressure returned to normal, and then she carefully finger-combed her hair into place and straightened her dress. She didn’t wait for the bartender to come in, though.

“I don’t need anything, Chuck,” Susan said breezily to the Mister Handy unit, who gave her a wave with one appendage while simultaneously pouring two different drinks. She headed into the bathroom, which she had chivvied Hancock into having cleaned up until it was one of the nicest in town. She used the facilities and was checking her appearance in the mirror when Emogene sauntered in. 

“So you really are into ghouls, huh?” Emogene said casually. “I wasn’t sure at first. Thought maybe you were just sucking up to him so he would keep supplying you with whiskey and chems. The amount you go through would strain anyone’s pocket. Figured you would play him as long as you could then move along before anything… deeper happened.” She smirked. “Or are we just not quite at that point yet? I must admit, sugar, the way you’ve strung him along so far is impressive. Hancock usually gets his playmates into bed in less than a week.” 

“I don’t really see how it’s any of your business,” Susan replied coldly. Her face felt like a frozen mask. She balled up a fist and thought about how much she’d like to smash that unnaturally young face in. 

“You don’t?” Emogene laughed humorlessly. “Well, sugar, he’s a public figure and all, the mayor. And when you ditch him and he turns into the asshole of the century while he picks up the pieces of his heart, it’s the rest of Goodneighbor that has to suffer.”

“That’s not what’s going to happen here,” Susan said. She frowned at Emogene. “Are you telling me your concern is actually for Hancock’s feelings?” 

“I just don’t want to have to do damage control.” Emogene lit a cigarette. “Listen, sugar, Sole Survivor and all that crap doesn’t mean shit to me. He’s worth twelve of you. Hancock was perfectly happy fucking the floozies that drift through here and running the show. He doesn’t need someone like you twisting him up and making him feel like a real relationship between human and a ghoul is something that could happen. He’s making a fool of himself. Besides, you know he’s just going to get bored of you like he does everyone else. You had your free ride, so if you’re not going to give him his, why don’t you do everyone a favor and get out of town before you lead him on any more?”

Susan was speechless. It was like all her fears had been crystallized. She wanted to deny the accusations hotly, but weren’t they the same thoughts she had been having just earlier today? And what could she say otherwise? That she was planning to fuck him tonight? That she loved him? Susan wasn’t sure if either of those things were even remotely true. 

Finally, she just spun on her heel and strode out of the bathroom. She hesitated in the lobby, and then turned to the left. She couldn’t go to the right; she couldn’t go back down the stairs into the Rail with all those people who knew she had been fooling around with the mayor. How many of them felt the same way as Emogene? No way she could go to the State House, either. How would she explain the sudden shift in her demeanor? Emogene had rocked her to the core. To think she had saved that damn woman from some religious nutjobs only to have her say Susan was basically worthless and a user!

Back in her room at the Rex, Susan locked the door and pulled the shades. It wasn’t that late but she drew off her clothes and slid between the sheets. No way she could tell Hancock about her problem right now. Not with the weight of all those accusations crushing her down. It felt like just another thing she would be taxing him with. After a few minutes she roused enough to fumble in her nightstand for some Med-X she had hoarded. She took twice what she would normally take and chased it with a long swig of whiskey. 

Tears filled her eyes as she thought about how poorly she had reacted. Why couldn’t she have just told Emogene to go fuck herself and cold-clocked the bitch if she opened her fat mouth again? Why couldn’t she just go to Hancock’s bedroom, where she so desperately wished to be right now, and tell him the truth? Instead she was about to drug herself to sleep and avoid all her problems, again. 

What would Nate think? Wouldn't he want her to be happy? Was being with Hancock even something that could make her happy? Doubts filled her mind, and she was grateful when the Med-X flooded them all out in a warm wave and she drifted off to sleep.

Susan woke up bleary from the dose of narcotics she’d taken and the whiskey she’d chugged with no food or water. She drank some purified water and ate something prepackaged, hardly paying attention. It was the kind of crap she never would’ve eaten before the war. She dressed in her ruins crawling gear and grabbed her stealth boy. She thought about engaging it now, hoping to get out of the Rex without encountering Clair. But the batteries were wicked hard to come by, and she didn’t have anything to hide, anyway. Maybe no one was up yet. 

Her hopes were crushed. She heard Clair down below talking to Fred and Rufus. Why are they always up so early? Susan thought, frustrated. Or maybe it was later than she had realized. She checked the time on her Pip-boy and groaned. Finally she descended into the foyer, where Clair gave her a sharp look.

“Didn’t really expect to see you this morning,” Clair said in her prim, unpleasant voice. 

“Why’s that?” Susan asked, although she was sure she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Word around town was you and the mayor were giving everyone a show in the VIP room last night. Couldn’t you at least wait until you went back to his room? I mean, if you’re going to get intimate with a ghoul,” disdain filled her voice, “you should keep in mind not everyone wants to see that.” When Susan’s only response was a flat look, she continued. “Hancock is well known for riding floozies in the Third Rail. I guess you’re no better than them.”

“Hey Clair,” Fred said softly. “Geez. That’s not very nice.” 

Clair rounded on him. “Ghouls are fine to live around but it’s not natural for a human to have a relationship with one. She’s just using him anyway.” 

Susan decided she’d had enough. She reached behind her and pulled out her shotgun, Sally. “What is going on between me and Mayor Hancock is no one’s business but ours,” she spat. “And the next person who I hear talking about it is going to get their tongue shot out.” She punctuated her statement by smoothly racking a round with a loud crack.

She was out the door before the sound had even stopped echoing through the lobby.


	6. Neither One Prepared: 61 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock hears some rumors going around about him and the vault dweller, Susan. He loses his temper when he doesn’t understand her reaction, and they have an argument. Is this the end of their relationship? Could it be over before it even started?

“How can I help you fellas today?” Hancock said genially.

Two drifters stood in front of him and Hancock thought about offering them a seat, but he didn’t like the shifty way they kept looking back-and-forth at each other like each hoped the other would speak first. So, he kept them standing. Also, he was hoping Susan would stop by tonight and he wanted to deal with these assholes before she arrived.

“Well, here’s the thing, Hancock,” the first one said. “There’s been some talk going around town about you and that vault dweller. The one they call the Sole Survivor or whatever.”

Hancock went still. “Oh yeah?” he said with deceptive gentleness. “What about Susan? I suggest you choose your next words wisely, gentlemen. Ya dig?”

“It ain’t us talkin’, Hancock,” the second one said hurriedly. “We just thought you should know.”

“Know what?” Hancock growled.

“Some people are saying maybe her intentions ain’t exactly honorable. They say maybe she’s… Well, she’s a user, takin’ advantage of you, and maybe you don’t even know it,” the first drifter finished in a rush.

“Yeah,” the second chimed in. “I mean, she comes in here every night and snuggles up to you and you give her all the chems and liquor she wants, but then you just walk her back to the Rex. Don’t it seem like maybe she’s takin’ the piss?”

“The whole town knows even when she stays at the State House, she sleeps in your bed and you sleep in your office,” the first continued, laughing nervously. “We’re just trying to look out for you, Hancock. You know, being Goodneighborly, or whatever.”

Hancock fought to keep his temper in check. What he really wanted to do was pull out his .45 and blow both their fucking heads off. Instead he spread his arms. “Well, thank you gentlemen for bringing your concerns to my attention,” he rasped. “Now kindly fuck off outta my VIP room and next time, tell whoever thinks they can talk shit about me behind my back, they can suck-start a shotgun.” 

He paused, noting their shocked faces. “Don’t forget to shut the door on your way out.”

Hancock was still grinding his teeth and feeling pissed off when her familiar profile came into view through the round window. He took a deep breath. Whatever he did, he needed to keep his anger at the drifters and the people of Goodneighbor out of his conversation with Susan. 

He still didn’t know why she hadn’t gone to the State House two nights ago, but his sources reported she had spent all day yesterday ruins crawling alone, and this morning she had sent a message saying that she didn’t feel well enough to go out and train with him. Hancock had sent Ham back personally to invite her to dinner, but the doorman had to leave a message because Susan had asked not to be disturbed.

Hancock hadn’t known if she would come or not, and he certainly didn’t fucking know what the hell had happened between Susan kissing him and now to put that wary expression on her face. 

“Hey sunshine,” he greeted her warmly.

“Hey you,” Susan replied, a small smile tugging up one corner of her mouth. She sat on the couch next to him, but farther away than usual, and she stayed leaning forward. “Got a smoke?” she asked. He handed her one and she lit it. 

Hancock had a feeling the puzzled, unhappy look on her face meant shit for him, so he lit himself a cigarette too and leaned back into the sofa, his arm along the top since he couldn’t put it around her shoulders. 

“What is it, doll?” he asked. No sense beating around the bush. 

“What is what?” Susan said, and Hancock almost felt like he was talking to that polite stranger from a month ago. It aggravated him, and he could feel his temper slipping its chains.

“Don’t play stupid with me,” Hancock said. “It’s unattractive.” Susan pursed her lips, then took a drag off her cigarette. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you just gonna run out like you did the other night?”

“You’re the one who ran out,” she replied. “I just went back to my room.” 

“I had a situation to deal with, doll. Ain’t like I just run out and didn’t say shit. What did you expect me to do?” 

Susan wouldn’t look at him. “Nothing,” she said. 

“Why didn’t you come back to the State House?” Hancock asked. There was a long silence and he fought the urge to shake her just to get a reaction. 

“I don’t know,” she finally replied, sounding lost. 

“You don’t know,” Hancock repeated. He exhaled sharply. She looked like she was struggling to tell him something but couldn’t find the words. “What happened after I left?” 

“Emogene cornered me in the bathroom,” she said without inflection. 

“What did that bitch want?” Hancock growled. 

Susan took a deep breath. “She said I was… I was just using you for chems. That you were… making a fool out of yourself over me. That I should leave town before you got bored with me, anyway.” Her mouth turned downward. “And she said a human couldn’t have a real relationship with a ghoul.” 

Hancock felt like smashing something. That uppity cunt! He should have sent her packing back to her brother Cabot as soon as she showed up. Susan’s passive, broken reaction was pissing him off, too. 

“So what?” he snapped. She turned to look at him in shock, her eyes widening. “Why do you give a fuck about the lies that whore spews? I thought you didn’t care what people thought about us. So you found out some people don’t think humans and ghouls should fuck, be together, whatever, and now you got a problem with ghouls? Is that why you didn’t come? You realized you kissed a freak and it might change how people look at you?” Hancock snorted. 

“No,” Susan protested, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t expect that kind of attitude here in Goodneighbor. I thought things were different here than in Diamond City. That a human and a ghoul could…. Could be together without people judging. Clair gave me a bunch of garbage about it the next morning, too, and said I was just like all the other floozies you’ve fucked in the Third Rail.” 

Hancock could tell she was getting mad now, too, and although he knew they were both mad at the assholes who were talking shit, it was hard to keep it straight in his head. 

“Well, them’s the facts, toots,” he said bitterly. “Yeah, I don’t live celibate. I got lovers who come and go. More than a few. And truth is, not everybody is gonna wanna see us together. Some people think it’s wrong, some think it’s right. You gotta decide for yourself. And no, Goodneighbor ain’t perfect. I’ve done the best I can,” he said through gritted teeth. Hancock felt like she had insulted his town and by proxy, him. “You don’t like it, I guess you could always go back to Diamond City and live behind their shitty green wall.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, John,” Susan said quietly. “I’m just telling you what other people were telling me.”

“You ain’t the only one around here gettin’ an earful,” Hancock shot back. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I had some assholes in here just before you showed up talking about how you’re a user and I’m all kinds of bamboozled. They actually had the nerve to say the whole town knows I walk you home every night, and when you sleep at my place, I’m in my office while you’re in my bed. To my face,” Hancock seethed. “But I didn’t put that shit on you when you came in here, did I? No. I don’t give a fuck what those sons of bitches think, Susan.”

Her face was white and her eyes wide as she took in everything he said. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my name,” Susan said. 

“Dammit, doll,” Hancock growled. “Don’t change the subject. You blew me off for two days after we had a real connection, and now you’re in here talking about how some people don’t think humans and ghouls should be together. So, what’s the deal? Are you just using me for your fix and a safe place to stay?”

“That’s not how it is, John,” Susan said, but her voice held no conviction. 

“How is it, then, sister? I’m sure you’ve noticed we spend a helluva lot of our time together high on my drugs and my liquor.”

“Yeah,” she replied hotly. “I like to get fucked up. I thought that’s what you liked to do, too. It’s something we have in common.” 

“And what about all the nights we’ve spent together at the State House? They always end with you in my bed, me in my office. You’re more than happy to let me touch you as long as I keep it friendly, but every time I try to take it a step further, you pull away,” Hancock said, the words spilling out of him now. 

Her big green eyes were looking dangerously glassy. “I just enjoy spending time with you,” Susan whispered. “I didn’t realize you thought I owed you sex for it. Is that really how you feel?” 

Hancock exhaled noisily in frustration. “That’s not what I’m saying, doll,” he replied, and he tried but failed to keep his voice from sounding taunting as he threw her words back at her. “I’m just tellin' you what other people were tellin' me.” 

He knew he was out of control. He knew he should stop right now. But dammit, whether it was true or not, hearing those accusations hurt, especially after already dealing with weeks of her warming him up and then shutting him down. And it wasn’t exactly like she was trying to reassure him. She had just basically said she didn’t want a sexual relationship with him, hadn’t she? “So, what’s the situation here, sister? If you’re just a user and tease, tell me now so I can get on with my life.”

Susan shook her head slowly. “That’s not… That’s not how things are, John.”

“I think I’d rather you called me Hancock,” he said coldly.

It took a few seconds for that message to sink in. Susan dropped her eyes and got to her feet with effort. Her gaze flicked to the whiskey bottle. 

“Go ahead,” Hancock said nastily. “Get it while the gettin’s good.” He thought she would have too much pride to take it after that, but Susan swooped down to grab the bottle before she walked to the door. She turned around briefly and looked at him. 

“Thank you, Mayor Hancock,” Susan said in a soft voice, clutching the whiskey bottle. “Have a nice evening.” And then she was gone.  
 


	7. Finding You Can Change: 63 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock regrets his argument with Susan, assuming she’s left town. But Irma, Memory Den proprietor, intercedes and Hancock and Susan make up.

Hancock sat in sullen silence on his favorite red couch in the Third Rail, holding a bottle of scotch in one hand and a Jet cartridge in the other, even though it was still early afternoon. Usually at this time he would be meeting Susan for a ruins crawl, but he figured she was long gone by now. No one had seen her in the two days since she returned to the Rex after he told her to call him Hancock. 

He felt a rush of shame remembering the look on her face. She was paid up through the week so no one would go into her room until then, but Hancock just assumed they would find it cleaned out. She had probably packed up and left in the night. He ground his teeth. Why had he been such an asshole to her?

“Hey, sweetheart,” a smoky feminine voice said, interrupting his reverie. “It’s a bit early to be double fisting, isn’t it?”

“Irma,” Hancock said, “heya, beautiful.” He looked down at the objects in his hands. “Is it early? I thought it was late. I started last night.”

Irma shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “Same old Hancock.”

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, darlin’?” He was hoping she’d get to the point quickly so he could return to the task at hand: getting wrecked and trying not to think about the vault dweller.

“Actually, I’d like to know why your little friend showed up at the Den by herself today wondering how much it costs to rent a lounger,” Irma replied drily.

“Susan?” Hancock said thickly.

“Yes, Susan.” Irma crossed her arms. “The last I knew, you were helping her with her training sessions. Has something happened between you two?”

“No,” he replied bitterly. “Not a goddamn thing.”

“I saw you just a few days ago, and you two were acting like you could barely tear your eyes off each other,” Irma said. “Now she’s in a lounger reliving a memory of training with you instead of actually doing it, and she looked like she was about to cry. So, do you want to tell me what happened?”

Hancock stared at a spot on the wall. “She came to me the other night with some bullshit the good people of Goodneighbor fed her, talking about how not everybody is in love with the idea of ghouls and humans gettin’ together. She made it seem like Goodneighbor was no better than Diamond City.”

“All right,” Irma said. “And how did you respond?”

Hancock shrugged uncomfortably. “Some asshole drifters had just been tellin’ me about how she was a user and a tease, and I wasn’t gonna say a goddamned thing about it, so I basically told her I didn’t know why she was coming to me with that shit.”

“It sounds to me like someone you care about came to you with a difficult situation that had been presented to her, hoping that you might be able to help her and guide her through it, and instead you made it seem like she was the one causing the problem,” Irma said pointedly.

Hancock felt taken aback. “You talked to her?”

“A bit,” Irma said with an amused smile. “She’s a rather remarkable person, you know. Intelligent and perceptive.”

“Don’t forget charismatic if she’s got you taking her side,” Hancock growled.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” Irma replied. “I just came over here to find out if I should charge her for her session or if I should put it on your bill like you told me to do if she came in.”

Hancock stared at her. “Bill me,” he said finally. 

Irma uncrossed her arms. “Are you going to come over and talk to her when she wakes up?” 

“I suppose you think I should?” Hancock said. 

“Only if you want to, sweetheart,” Irma said with a wave of her hand. “You’ve got about an hour before she’s gonna be done.”

Hancock regarded the scotch and Jet in his hands before putting them aside with a sigh and grabbing a bottle of purified water. 

Ten minutes later he pulled a chair up next to the lounger where Susan was dreaming about combat. Hancock sat there, drinking water and watching her through the glass, deriving a measure of amusement out of her intense facial expressions and twitching muscles. Right about the time Irma had said she would wake up, he thought he saw Susan make a kissing motion with her mouth. A few second later her eyes popped open and she immediately began fumbling for the inner release on the lounger. Hancock opened it for her, and as he did so, she noticed him for the first time.

“Hey sunshine,” he said. 

“Hey you,” Susan said with resignation. Then she added tartly, “I hope you’re not expecting a kiss today.”

Hancock couldn’t help but laugh. “Not today, doll. Can I help you out, though?”

Susan gave him a considering look. “All right,” she said, taking his outstretched hand. 

“How was it?” he asked.

“Not great,” she replied shortly. “I think I was imagining I could have cleared that place alone, but watching what you do changed my mind.” She looked down. “I don’t think I can do it without you.” 

“Life’s always a little easier when you got someone watchin’ your back,” Hancock said solemnly. He waited but she didn’t anything. “Think you might wanna come to the Rail tonight for dinner?” 

“I don’t know,” Susan said. “It depends.” 

“Depends on what?”

“On what version of you I’m going to get,” she said flatly. “I thought I knew what kind of person you were, Hancock. Is it the guy that walks me home even though it’s, like, fifty feet, and never lets me pay for a meal? The one that held me when I was at my lowest point and gave me the confidence to try again? Or is that just an act? I didn’t recognize the guy I met the other night when I tried to tell you what was bothering me, and I didn’t like him. If that’s the real you and you’ve just been pretending to be nice to try to get me into your bed, I’d rather know now.” 

Hancock nodded. “That’s a fair question,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “And there’s no easy answer. I ain’t either one of those guys, doll. It ain’t like me to play the gentleman. It’s something about you that brought that out in me. I didn’t even know I had it in there. I’ve been wantin’ to pull your panties off with my teeth since ten minutes before I met you.” 

Susan snorted a laugh as he continued. “But I could tell that wasn’t what you needed. And that other guy? That’s part of me too, doll. I can be a cocky asshole. I get pissed sometimes, and something aggravates it and I go nuclear. All I can say is, I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He studied her blank face, wishing she would react at all, anything. “You gonna come?” 

“Okay,” Susan said finally. “I’ll meet you at the Rail after I get cleaned up.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Hancock replied.


	8. Learning You Were Wrong: 64 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan finally comes up with a plan to talk to Hancock about her problem, but Hancock thinks she’s not interested in him, and he tries to move on. Susan catches him in the act, but how will she react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POV switches between Hancock and Susan for this short chapter.

Her:

Susan finger-combed her hair again. She wasn’t totally sure why she was stalling. It was early for her to be at the Rail, hours before she would normally show up. Ham had said the mayor was in the VIP room, and seemed about to tell her something else, but Susan was too distracted to want to ask about it as she pushed past him. She had come to a decision. 

When Hancock had courteously offered to escort her to the Rex last night, she had slumped in the sofa and made her unwillingness known. They’d had a nice evening up until then. Susan hadn’t felt entirely comfortable publicly cuddling up to him so soon after their argument, so she had sat next to him but away a bit, and engaged everyone in conversation, making the drifters and even Fahrenheit (reluctantly) laugh. But the thought of going back to the Rex, with or without Hancock as an escort, made her feel nauseated. Someone always had something snide to say about what she’d been doing. 

So when Hancock had invited her back to the State House, she had accepted, and he had been a complete gentleman. A dozen times she had tried to start a conversation that would lead to her finally just telling him her problem, and a dozen times he had changed the subject, reassured her, or otherwise made it harder than it should have been to tell him the truth. 

She knew he was trying to be nice, but she wished he would just shut up sometimes and let her organize her thoughts. Her secret hung over them like a pall. Hancock had retreated to his office without even touching her, as if he didn’t trust himself.

So today, Susan had decided to come early and ask him if he wanted to take a walk. That would break up their routine. And she would find the words to tell him what she had put off for so long. Too long, she knew. Her feelings for Hancock were undeniable. She wanted what he had to offer as much as he wanted to give it to her.

She kept thinking about what she had read on Irma’s computer console about Hancock when Susan had hacked it the other day. “Mayor Hancock's memories are... well, let's just say if you thought he was handsome and dangerous now, you should've seen him before he turned ghoul. And I thought I knew how to have a good time...”

Susan shivered in anticipation.

The Rail was dead. Most of the usual patrons would be eating an early dinner before they arrived or else finishing up their work. Susan crept through the quiet main hall so stealthily, Chuck never even saw her. Just keeping the skills fresh, she thought with a grin as she approached the door to the VIP room. It was shut, and she couldn’t see Hancock, but she was stealthy. She would sneak in and surprise him, they would go for that walk, and hopefully the evening would end differently than any so far in the Commonwealth. She could hear the radio playing softly.

What was that odd noise, though?

Him: 

Hancock walked into the Third Rail in a sour mood. Although he couldn’t say he’d had a bad evening, everything about Susan’s demeanor last night had told him he needed to accept that there was no chance of an intimate relationship between them. Hell, he didn’t know why he kept imagining that was what she wanted. She had told him clearly enough she didn’t want him for sex. He had gotten his hopes up when she said she didn’t want to go back to the Rex, but back at the State House she had been unreachable again. Hancock had been afraid to even touch her, that she would see anything he did as a demand. She had barely even responded to his repeated attempts to start a conversation.

She didn’t want to go to the Rex because they harassed her there, but she didn’t want to get intimate with him either. Sure, they enjoyed each other’s company, but Hancock knew he couldn’t just keep hoping for more. If she didn’t want him, well hell, she didn’t. He wasn’t going to keep pushing where he wasn’t welcome, especially when there were so many willing bodies about. 

As if his thought had summoned her, Trish strolled into the room. A satisfied smile lit up her face when she realized they were alone, and he didn’t object when she ostentatiously shut the door. “Heya, Hancock,” she said playfully, sitting down next to him on the couch. “How’s it hanging?”

“Long, loose, and full of juice,” Hancock growled, putting his hand on her knee. She laughed. 

“Yeah? Sounds like a real problem,” Trish said seductively. “Maybe there’s something I can do to help?”

Hancock stared at the wall for a few heartbeats. He looked at the clock. Hours before Susan would show up, if she ever did. She never came to the Rail this early. And he didn’t really expect her, anyway. He looked at Trish. “Yeah,” he said. “I can think of somethin’.”

Her:

Susan pushed the door to the VIP room open slowly, so slowly. She could still hear an odd, rhythmic sound that she couldn’t quite identify. It sounded like… Panting? Her brow furrowed. Then she heard something more clearly. 

“Oh god Hancock, give it to me,” a feminine voice said breathily. Susan froze. Although she knew what she was hearing now, her brain didn’t quite want to accept it. It required further evidence. So, she crept in and slowly turned her head to the right. 

Hancock was visible a few feet away, his eyes closed, thrusting into the drifter she had met earlier in the week, Trish, who was bent over the couch opposite from where they usually sat. Susan only glanced his way for a moment, but the image was burned into her brain in that instant. Only training and an iron will enabled her to step backwards silently, close the door with nary a click, and calmly walk out of the Rail.

Him: 

Hancock could have sworn he heard the door squeak while he was getting his rocks off with Trish, but when he turned to look, he didn’t see anything. He closed his eyes again so he could think about the vault dweller. From the radio came the swinging sound of the Ink Spot’s song, ‘It’s All Over But the Crying.’

It's all over, but the crying

And nobody's crying but me

Friends all over know I'm trying

To forget about how much I care for you

Her: 

Susan lay in her bed with a bottle of whiskey in her hand and a handful of Med-X sitting in front of her. She closed her eyes, but all she could see was a red coat and tricorn hat, and pants around ankles. From her Pip-Boy drifted the sweet melody of the song ‘End of the World’ by Skeeter Davis.

Why do the birds go on singing? 

Why does the sea rush to shore? 

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?

It ended when I lost your love…  
 


	9. True as True Can Be: 66 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock hasn’t seen Susan for three days, and he misses her. But when Susan shows up, Hancock realizes she has seen him. Their conversation makes him question everything, but will he get answers? Will Susan be able to stay in Goodneighbor?

Hancock glanced up again as he saw someone move to the bar through the VIP room window. But it wasn’t Susan. It had been three days since he had seen her. He had hoped she would stop by last night, but she hadn’t. His sources told him she had been scouring the ruins on an excruciating schedule. 

He wondered what had wound her up so tight this time, then reminded himself it was none of his business. They were just friends. Still, he wished she would stop by so he could tell her that joke he had remembered yesterday. It felt like weeks since he had heard her laugh. He might not be able to have the kind of relationship with her he wanted to have, but they could still laugh together, couldn’t they?

He turned his attention back to the conversation he was having with a drifter, keeping half his brain tuned to the door. His awareness was rewarded just a few minutes later when he saw Susan dart past. Hancock would have recognized that blonde hair and lithe figure anywhere, and it disturbed him that she had clearly hoped to avoid his notice. How did all this shit go so horribly wrong? 

Hancock got up and sauntered out of the door, leaning against the doorjamb. Susan stood at the bar, trying to whisper at Chuck. “What are you babbling about, bird?” the Mister Handy unit said loudly to her. She sighed and shook her head. She froze when she caught Hancock’s silhouette out of the corner of her eye. She straightened up.

“A bottle of whiskey and a Jet cart, please,” Susan said clearly. Hancock could see her watching him slant-eyed. He stepped up to the bar. 

“Put it on my tab,” Hancock directed gruffly.

Susan’s mouth thinned. “That’s not necessary.” But then she relented slightly and turned towards him. “I mean, thank you, Hancock.”

“Call me John,” he said softly, but instead of giving him the smile he hoped for, she turned away. 

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” Susan said flatly.

Hancock didn’t know what to say to that. Fuck, how had all this shit gone wrong? What made it inappropriate? Couldn’t they even be friends now? “Come sit with me, doll,” he said, and although it was a request, he tried to make it seem like more. He couldn’t imagine letting her walk out without at least talking to her for a few minutes. He was dying to hear her laugh, to see the crooked smile she only gave him.

“All right,” Susan said politely, collecting her order from the bar. They trooped into the VIP room together. She flopped down, opened her whiskey and took a long drink before hitting the Jet generously. She kept everything in her lap as if she expected to leave at any time. 

“Hey, sunshine,” Hancock said, wishing it was that easy to turn her back from this polite stranger into the woman who had kissed him so passionately just a few days before. Susan didn’t even say ‘hey you’ in response. She just took another swallow of whiskey and gave him an inscrutable look.

“I haven’t seen you for a few days,” he tried again. This time Hancock was more successful than he wanted to be. 

“No,” Susan said quietly. “No, you haven’t. But I have seen you,” she added, and she laughed, but not like it was funny.

“Whaddya mean, doll?” Hancock asked. “Did you come by and I didn’t see you?”

“Something like that,” Susan replied. 

“Why didn’t you say hi?”

“You were busy,” she replied evenly.

“I’m never too busy for you, sunshine,” Hancock said, lighting up a cigarette. He tried to hand it to her, but she just stared at it. “What could I possibly have been doin’...?” He trailed off.

“The night before last,” Susan said tonelessly. “A few hours before I would normally have come by.”

“Fuck,” Hancock said softly, but with feeling, as he realized what she was getting at.

Susan took the smoke from him finally and helped herself to a long drag. “Yeah,” she told the cigarette. “That’s what you were doing.” 

Hancock lit one for himself and they smoked together in silence until nothing was left but ashes. 

“Listen, doll,” he started, but she cut him off.

“Stop. Please,” Susan said with a plaintive smile. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Hancock. Even if we had a sexual relationship, which we don’t, you wouldn’t owe me an explanation, but we’re just friends.” She grabbed the whiskey bottle and took long swig. “Right?” she asked the bottle.

“Didn’t think you wanted that kind of relationship,” Hancock started, but just then Fahrenheit and several Triggermen burst in, laughing about something that had happened on patrol. Susan put on her ‘charming’ mask and no one had a clue anything was wrong, but Hancock could tell she was a million miles away from him. 

During a lull in the conversation she stood up, leaned over to him, and whispered in his ear like she had done a dozen times in the past. Usually it was ‘I’ll be right back, I gotta pee,’ or ‘I’ll take care of this asshole.’ Something along those lines. And she usually came back to her spot a short time later. 

Tonight, when Susan leaned over and put a gentle hand on his face and he heard that sweet voice in his ear, it was sad. “Sex isn’t easy for everyone, Hancock,” she said, and then she was gone.


	10. Tale as Old as Time: 90 days in the Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan returns to Goodneighbor after being away for several weeks. Hancock is happy to see her, but her attitude quickly brings up all his frustration from their time apart. Will Susan have the courage to tell him the truth, or will she run again?

It had been over two weeks since the vault dweller, Susan, had whispered those enigmatic words into Hancock’s ear, and he hadn’t seen her one time since. He wasn’t worried she was dead, though. Evidence of her continued survival was all around him. 

Goodneighbor was more crowded than he could remember it ever being. Eager drifters had been organized into a construction force, and several dilapidated buildings had been patched up and made livable. The supply lines Susan had set up all throughout the Commonwealth meant more fresh food and supplies for everyone living in communities. As a result, those communities were thriving. The Minutemen were sending patrols out from the Castle, and there was a radio station devoted to communicating when settlements needed help. 

Sometimes Hancock listened to the violin that played between broadcasts, but it depressed him.

Irma had come to him a few days before and told him that Susan had shown up at the Memory Den working with the Railroad, too, trying to help synths escape the Institute. Hancock shook his head in disbelief. How did she find the time? It was like she had been working non-stop since she left Goodneighbor. And clearly her training was paying off. Susan had developed a reputation for being one of the most dangerous people in the Commonwealth. There were numerous reports of her stealth style, the way no one ever knew she was there until her bullet exploded in their skull.

Hancock felt proud when he thought about that, but he also felt disappointed that she had been in Goodneighbor, just a short walk away from him, and hadn’t even stopped in to say hello. He had thought they were friends, at least. 

Maybe she didn’t even want that. Maybe the good people of Goodneighbor had been right. Maybe she had just been using him for chems and a safe break while she drifted through. 

Hancock entered the Third Rail, greeting Ham with a warm smile and a clap on the shoulder, noting as he descended the stairs that the buzz from below was louder than usual. The room was crowded, and he didn’t know a lot of the faces. Chuck seemed close to overwhelmed, and Hancock chuckled at the cockney slurs he was hurling at the patrons. “You raspberry tart! Impatient twat! You septic tank! Wait your turn, tosser!” Maybe it was time to hire a second bartender.

The VIP room was quieter, though, and Hancock shut the door behind him. He shut the door most of the time now. Susan’s name and the talk about the things she had done that echoed throughout the Commonwealth came up too often for his comfort. Every time he heard “Susan” or “the Sole Survivor” or “that vault dweller,” he found himself searching the crowd for her in vain. 

In a way, Hancock felt like a part of it all. He doubted she would be where she was right now if he hadn’t stopped her from being assaulted that night and helped her learn to survive. She might even be dead. He shook his head at his own thoughts. Was he trying to take credit for Susan’s accomplishments? Only he knew about that night, although plenty of people knew something had happened between them.

Hancock was just trying to find a link between him and her, and that was the fucking problem, because there wasn’t one. He needed to wrap his head around it and move on. 

Getting wasted and fucking drifters just felt so pointless now. He’d had a threesome with Trish and Jackie the night he’d realized Susan was actually gone, but it hadn’t done much for him. Hancock would have traded every minute of it to hear that silvery laughter. 

Ham appeared at the door. “Hey boss,” he said, and his voice was bright with excitement. “You asked me to let you know if Susan came around. I know that was like two weeks ago, but…” He cut off because Hancock had jumped to his feet when he heard the word Susan and he was already halfway to the VIP room door before Ham could finish speaking. 

He paused at the threshold, searching for her, but he didn’t see her shock of blonde hair peeking out of the crowd. Her height usually made her easy to find. Hancock didn’t want to rush out there looking for her. He had a reputation to maintain. 

“Thanks Ham,” he said gruffly. “Make sure Charlie knows anything she wants is on the house.”

“Yes sir!” Ham said happily, and Hancock couldn’t help but smile wryly. Everyone loves her, he thought. It wasn’t especially comforting. If everyone loved her, it meant she could love anyone she wanted. And she clearly hadn’t chosen him. 

He backed up slowly and sat back down on the couch. He could see into the bar as well from here as he could in the doorway, anyway. And he could hear what was going on. He took a small hit of Jet and lit a cigarette as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. 

Hancock heard the buzz in the room rise like a tidal wave, and he knew Susan must have descended to the main room. He wouldn’t be able to see her until she approached the bar, and it didn’t look like it would happen very quickly. People moved away from the bar to greet her and congregate around her instead. They were trying to bring her drinks so she didn’t have to order. 

Hancock heard her name like a background whisper: Susan, Susan, Susan. He took a longer hit of Jet, and then it was like her name was all he could hear for an eternity as time slowed down and the crowd in the Third Rail, the good people of Goodneighbor, greeted the vault dweller, the Sole Survivor, who was now the General of the Minutemen with known ties to the Railroad and the Brotherhood. 

“Susan,” Hancock said so quietly he knew no one could have heard him. A few minutes later some people began to drift into the VIP room through the open door. 

“Heya, Mayor Hancock!” one man exclaimed. Hancock knew this drifter hadn’t been here during his tumultuous time with Susan and probably didn’t know there was any connection between them. “Guess who’s here? It’s that vault dweller that got the Minutemen going again!”

“Is that so?” Hancock said, his voice gravelly.

“Yeah! Wow, I didn’t expect her to be so…” The man trailed off. 

“Yeah,” Hancock grated. 

The drifter looked at him in surprise. “You’ve met her before?”

Hancock hit the Jet a third time even though the room was already swimming. “Yeah.”

Suddenly she was there. Her tall, slim figure was unmistakable, as was the way she tucked her wavy blonde hair behind her ear as she stepped up to the bar, as if it was an impediment to hearing. Susan was wearing a purple dress with sequins he’d never seen before and she looked impossibly lovely. It was too loud to hear what she said, but he saw her lips moving and he heard Charlie’s reply of “Ah so you’re back! No need to even ask! I always set aside a stash o’ the good stuff just for you. On the house, o’ course!” and he saw her smile and nod. 

Hancock was watching her so closely he saw the exact moment her manner changed. Would she turn and look for him? He was waiting for it, although he half expected her not to. But she did. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head to the right, and he saw she kept her eyes on Charlie until the last possible second, so he could see her face clearly before she saw him. Their eyes locked.

Susan wore a peculiar expression. Hancock wouldn’t have called it a smile, but she looked happy. When their gazes met, however, the corners of her mouth tugged up, and Hancock found himself grinning back. 

He had left the door open so that they wouldn’t be alone together for this first encounter after weeks apart; but now he wished he had left it shut so he could open it, invite her in, and lock the rest of the world out. So he could have her all to himself. Ignoring all the inviting words from the Rail patrons, she took her whiskey and Jet and came straight into the VIP room, greeting everyone warmly and studiously avoiding meeting his gaze again. She looked like she didn’t know where she should sit, and Hancock couldn’t help himself any longer. He stood up and said loudly, “Hey sunshine.”

“Hey you,” Susan said, looking at him again finally, smiling serenely, and his heart thumped crazily for a moment. What had he been expecting? ‘Good evening, Mayor Hancock?’ She was still Susan, for fuck’s sake.

“Come sit with me,” Hancock said, and she followed him to the couch. He sat with his hands in his lap and Susan leaned with the arm away from him on the back of the couch. She took a drink of whiskey and gave him a polite smile. “If I was gonna believe all the rumors, you’ve been a busy girl, doll. Or maybe I should call you General.” 

Susan laughed and rolled her eyes ostentatiously. “Oh, please don’t,” she said in a mock pleading tone. “I’ve got a pretty tricorn hat just like yours now,” she said, pointing at his head, “but when I wear it, I get General this and General that, and you don’t know how many bad salutes. I left it at home tonight because I wanted to be Susan. Just Susan.” 

Hancock smiled; it felt so good to hear her laugh. “You’re always welcome to put your feet up here for a while, sunshine. I heard you got a shiny set of power armor you wear most of the time now anyway,” he added. “So I guess you don’t need a lot more than that. I like the new dress, by the way. Purple suits you.”

“Thank you,” Susan said. “I got it in Trinity Tower.” She smoothed the purple folds. “Getting the power armor fixed up helped a lot. I can do the kinds of things I never imagined being able to do before. That, plus the training you and Mac gave me, made the difference for me.”

She fluffed her hair nervously. “That’s part of the reason I’m here. I wanted to thank you. I don’t think I had realized how much I actually got from it when I left here. But the first time I was surprised by a pack of ferals, I took them all down before a single one got to me. That and what you did for me after Kellogg…” Susan broke off. “I don’t know if I’d even be alive without you. So thanks.”

“Seems to me like when I look around Goodneighbor, you’ve more than repaid what I did for you. You said that was just part of the reason you came back?”

Susan cocked her head and studied him. “Could we speak privately?” 

“Sure, doll.” Hancock raised his voice. “Hey! Could the lady and I have a few minutes alone here? Don’t forget to shut the door on your way out.” The crowd shuffled out, grumbling a bit about being evicted, but Hancock was watching Susan, who was staring at a spot on the wall.

“You ain’t worried about what they’re gonna be sayin’ about us out there?” Because surely, they were the topic on everyone’s tongues, at least for the moment. 

“No, Hancock,” Susan replied, and she sounded tired. “I never was.” She looked away. “Besides, this is business. I’m doing really well. I’ve got my own little community I’ve been setting up, Hangman’s Alley. I’ve got more than enough caps for anything I need.”

“That’s great, sister. You still eat and drink here for free, though.”

She looked frustrated. “I’ve met a lot of good people in my time here in the Commonwealth. People who wanted to help me. I’m still planning to go out into the Glowing Sea and I think I’m almost ready.” Susan paused her speech and swallowed, examining her hands now. “I haven’t met anyone who I thought would be a better companion heading out there than you. I have caps, and I can…”

“Stop,” Hancock interrupted her. “Please.” She raised an eyebrow at his words, the same words she had used to stop him when he tried to explain Trish the drifter, but she waited for him to continue. “I told you I would help you with that already, sunshine. You just let me know when it’s time to get the show on the road.”

Susan looked away again. “I think it might be best if we kept this as business, Hancock. You’ve already done so much for me, and now I’m in the position where I can try to repay that. I owe it to…”

“You don’t owe me a fuckin’ thing,” Hancock growled. “I don’t wanna hear that kind of talk.”

“Dammit, John,” Susan said, clenching her hands into fists, her eyes suddenly blazing. “You know, sometimes you should just shut the fuck up.” 

But he didn’t. All the frustration of the last few weeks came out in a rush. “So you can tell me about your business proposition? It’s just business to you, is that it, doll? Is it always business? Was that all I ever was to you? A job? A way to get what you needed without giving up more than you had to?”

“NO, you asshole,” Susan snapped. “It was never like that for me! Fuck, you are so goddamned dense sometimes.” She dropped her chems to the floor with a clatter and stood up. Hancock expected her to walk out without even looking at him. 

Instead, she turned around and stepped directly in front of him. Hancock leaned back in surprise, and Susan hiked her dress up enough so she could put one leg on either side of him, straddling him, sitting in his lap. She flicked his hat off, grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him with a fierce passion. 

Shocked, it took Hancock a second to respond, but then he was kissing her back, his hands on her hips holding her to him, and it was just like the dreams that haunted his nights, only better because she was real and in his arms. Hancock was afraid to get too intense, as if by showing her his hunger he might frighten her off again. 

It was a moment before she broke away. Susan still had his head in her hands, and she held it almost desperately, as if afraid he might disappear; she was studying him, green eyes swimming with a hint of tears and oceans of loneliness. 

Hancock had to clear his throat before he could speak. “You tryna tell me you missed me as much as I missed you, sunshine?” he asked, his voice husky.

“More,” Susan breathed. She pressed herself into him, her pelvis grinding against his, as she put her mouth against his again. This time Hancock kissed her more thoroughly, his hands roaming over her body, stroking and caressing those dangerous curves, and he closed his eyes and lost himself in the scent of her, the sweet taste of her in his mouth, the feel of her warm and pliant in his arms. 

When they came up for air again, Susan relaxed and put her hands on his shoulders. Hancock held her hips tightly, unwilling to release her from this intimate position. It was the first time she had ever sat in his lap. 

She showed no willingness to dismount, but he could tell she had something to say. They sat there until Hancock started to wonder if he should fill the silence with something, and he opened his mouth, but then he remembered her angry comment about how he should shut the fuck up sometimes, so he didn’t say anything. He just kept gently rubbing her thighs with his thumbs, holding her against him, waiting.

“Can we get out of here?” Susan asked finally. “I need to talk to you about something. I need to tell you something that I should have told you a long time ago, about a… problem… I have. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. I tried to tell you… Actually, you know what, that’s not true. I thought about telling you a hundred times, a thousand, but I just couldn’t.” She turned her head down but looked back up at him so her green gaze was shadowed by long lashes. “I guess I just wasn’t ready. But now I think I am.” 

“Anything for you, sunshine,” he said. “What about your adoring masses, though?” Hancock could tell from the rising buzz in the Third Rail that word had spread of Susan’s arrival, and more people were showing up by the minute. A few gawkers could be seen through the round glass window in the door to the VIP room, and he was sure news of their intimate embrace was already spreading through the bar. 

“I don’t give a fuck about them,” Susan said. “The only person who matters to me right now is you. And we’re leaving. Ready?”

In answer, Hancock slid his hands under her thighs and stood up with her still straddling him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, and the look she gave him let him know she was as reluctant to disengage as he was. But she slowly released him and slid down his body until her feet were on the floor. 

“Get the whiskey and the Jet,” Susan reminded him. Then she took his hand. She led him to the door of the VIP room and out into the main room. Many heads turned to observe their progress. Instead of heading right for the stairs, she went to Charlie and said, “Hey Chuck, can you get everyone’s attention for me?”

“My pleasure,” the robot said. “HEY MATES!” Charlie roared, and the crowd quieted and turned to look. 

“Thanks, love,” Susan said to the robot. “Hello everyone! Good evening!” she said loudly to the room. “Thank you for all of your support. Mayor Hancock and I have some urgent business to discuss. If you’ll excuse us, we’ll return when we have concluded our… affairs. Please, until then, enjoy your drinks!”

The crowd roared, most cheering approvingly, and Susan wasted no time dragging Hancock past all the patrons, politely but thoroughly ignoring anyone who tried to engage her. When they burst out the front door of the Rail, he stopped her, gently tugging on her hand until she turned to look at him. “You’re a helluva woman, you know that?” Hancock said gruffly. 

“Yeah,” Susan said, her eyes sparkling. “I know.”

Back at the State House, Hancock let her take the lead on the stairs, resting his hand on the small of her back. Whether she chose the office or his bedroom would tell him a lot about the nature of their conversation. At the top of the stairs she hesitated. Then she turned to go into his bedroom. But she didn’t go to the bed; she led him to the couch off to the side. Then she seemed unsure what to do. 

So Hancock sat down on the couch and put his arm up like he used to do in the Rail, an invitation into that nook that she took. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. After a few breaths Susan relaxed into him. Even though she had said she wanted to talk, he knew whatever it was she wanted to tell him would be difficult for her. He just held her, silently, heeding her earlier advice. 

“Do you remember me telling you about my thyroid problem?” Susan asked finally. 

Hancock thought back to their conversation about it. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I remember you telling me that scar on your neck was from a surgery, not a knife fight. And that you needed some kind of medicine that Amari was helping you get.”

“Yep,” Susan said. “Right. Do you remember me telling you it was a hormone I needed? A hormone everyone needs to have or they die.”

“I’m following you, sunshine.”

“Well, it’s not just my thyroid I have problems with. All my hormones are out of whack. As much as I like to remember the time before the war with rose-colored glasses, it wasn’t perfect. For years I had pains in my… In here.” Susan covered her abdomen with her hands. She shook her head. “I had other symptoms, too. There weren’t any really great solutions for the problems I was having.” She took a deep breath. “I had a surgery for that, too.”

Hancock shook his head slowly. “Now I don’t follow.”

“I know,” she said. “Amari told me they don’t do that kind of surgery anywhere in the Commonwealth. It’s called a hysterectomy. That means they removed my, uh… My female organs.”

Hancock was horrified. “Whaddya mean? All of ‘em? Do you mean you can’t…? You don’t have a… Did they hurt you?” He stopped himself with effort.

“No,” Susan said quickly. “No, I still have a…” she paused, and he imagined her flicking through the thesaurus in her head. “It was the internal organs they removed. It was my choice. It helped me,” she added. “It helped me with many of my problems. But… everything happened so quickly. I had decided to have it done because they told us the adoption paperwork was going to take months to go through, and I thought I’d be healed before we ever got to meet Shaun. But it went through quicker than we’d expected, and I was still healing when we got him. Then that bomb fell and we were… Frozen. It still feels like just a few months ago,” she said with a disbelieving laugh. 

“When I woke up, I was essentially, still just a short time out from a major surgery. At first it didn’t seem to matter that much. I was focused on avenging Nate and saving my baby. I never expected to find my husband ten years dead and my son a grown stranger. I never thought I’d meet someone who made me feel… Well, I didn’t take you into account,” Susan said frankly. “And that was my dilemma.”

Hancock felt like someone had struck him on the back of the head with a board. Whatever reason he had imagined for a lack of interest in a sexual relationship on her part, ‘physically unable to’ had literally never even made the list. Trying to process everything, he said dumbly, “Did it hurt?”

Susan gave him the ghost of a smile. “Yeah, it hurt,” she said, but she sounded amused. “I knew it was going to. That’s how surgery works. It hurts at first, but later, after you heal, you feel better.”

“Did you heal?” Hancock asked hoarsely, and he suddenly realized how important the answer was to all his questions.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I healed. And although the last few weeks away from you were hard, I know in my heart of hearts that it was just more time to heal.” 

Susan turned to him now, and Hancock helped by pulling her around with his arm in the way he knew she liked. He put his hand on her knee and consciously made himself keep from trying to lighten the mood. This was the first time she had ever been brave enough to talk to him like this, and he wasn’t going to ruin it. 

“But it was never as easy for me as I know you must’ve imagined,” Susan told him. “I know some nights I did more with you than I would have with someone I wasn’t attracted to. And that’s probably why I seemed like a…. a tease, sometimes. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you… I did. I was just…”

“Scared,” Hancock finished for her, finally understanding.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Scared you would hurt me, not on purpose, but because you didn’t know. And I wanted to tell you, but it seemed like an impossible task. Doctor Amari double checked for me and told me everything was fine… About three weeks ago,” she added quietly. 

Hancock put the pieces together in his head. “The day you went to talk to the doc after we cleared the fish packing plant,” he recalled. He paused. “The day you kissed me…” 

“I was gonna tell you that night,” Susan confessed. “It was all I could think about. And then you got called off on that Louie business, and…” 

“And that bitch Emogene cornered you in the bathroom,” Hancock said. “And Clair cut you up the next mornin’.” Suddenly everything made sense. “And I…” he trailed off, thinking about how he had snapped at her, taken out his frustration on her. Told her to call him Hancock instead of John. And then she had seen him with Trish. He closed his eyes. 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Susan said gently. “I wish I could have told you. But I could never just casually decide to take a lover. I would need someone who could… Be gentle. Who would take it slow. Who would be willing to take the time to make sure I was… Ready.” A hint of a laugh. Hancock could practically hear the thesaurus again, aroused, warmed up, excited, stimulated, horny... 

“I would need someone who could understand that when it felt the best was the most dangerous part for me, because I sometimes have a hard time holding myself back. Nate,” and she swallowed, “Nate understood. He knew everything about my medical condition. I knew he would do his best to help me through the hardest part. We had sex just a few times before the bombs fell. It was a helluva lot more like therapy than fucking. And even knowing what he knew, I could tell it was hard for him to hold back.” 

Susan took a long drink of whiskey and he could see the sadness on her face. “Not the kind of thing you can just tell some random guy at a bar before you head back to his place. You know what I mean?” 

“I ain’t just some random guy, sister,” Hancock told her.

“I know, John,” Susan said softly. “That’s why I’m telling you.” But she still looked anxious, as if she was afraid what she had told him would shock and disgust him, or that he was going to demand sex immediately. Her hands were nervously squeezing each other, and her green eyes pleaded with him for something, although he wasn’t sure what. 

Words seemed hard. Hancock couldn’t think of any to give her that would reassure her. Instead, he put his other arm under her knees and pulled her, unresisting, to sit on his lap. Susan laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh, her arms circling his neck, and he just held her, his fingertips making soothing circles on her shoulder, her hip. 

“I can be gentle,” Hancock said eventually, his voice a husky purr. “I know how to take it slow.” Her only response was to cling to him more tightly. “And truth is, sunshine, I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more than take all the time in the world making sure you feel ready.” 

Wondering if humor might get her to loosen her grip before she strangled him, he added, “I’m a certified muff divin’ champion, actually.” 

She started to quake, and he thought she was laughing, but when she pulled away he could see tears running down her face, too. Susan was laughing and crying at the same time and shaking her head as she studied him. “You’re a helluva man,” she said in a shaky voice. “You know that?”

“Yeah, I know it,” Hancock said with a cocky grin. He gently rubbed her back. Then he brushed a tear from her cheek. “Wasn’t tryna make you cry, doll,” he said gruffly.

“I just can’t believe I waited so long to tell you,” Susan said. “I wish I would’ve trusted you.”

“Woulda, coulda, shoulda, sunshine. It don’t matter now. Sounds like it might’ve been for the best, anyway. More time for you to heal, ya feel me?”

She gave him half a smile. “You always see the silver lining.”

“You ain’t a dark cloud, baby,” Hancock purred, looking deep into her eyes. “You’re my sunshine.”

Susan didn’t seem to know quite how to respond to that. Emotions played across her face almost too quickly to identify. Pleasure, longing, doubt, hopefulness. And a touch of that anxiety that he was coming to realize was an integral part of her.

Hancock stood up, still holding her to his chest, and slowly set her on the floor. She looked surprised at first and then confused, like she had thought he would tear her clothes off and take her right there now that her secret was out. She also looked a tiny bit relieved, though, and he knew he had made the right choice. He pulled her arms up around his neck and put his around her waist.

“I’m lookin’ forward to showin’ you just how right you were to trust me,” Hancock said solemnly. “But there’s no hurry. We’re just gonna take our time.”

Susan rewarded him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen out of her. She nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Now why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll head back to the Rail. It’s still early. Unless you was lyin’ to the good people of Goodneighbor when you told ‘em we’d be back.” Susan sighed and rolled her eyes. “We ain’t gotta go anywhere if you don’t wanna, doll,” Hancock said with a chuckle.

“I suppose we probably should. We’re like celebrities, you know. Famous and shit. If we don’t put in an appearance, there might be a riot.” Susan pulled away from him and headed into the bathroom.

Back at the Rail, they were greeted loudly and boisterously. Now that the sharp edge was off his nerves, he could thoroughly enjoy watching Susan’s subtle transformation into her role as General Sole Railroad Whatever. She smiled graciously, she mingled effortlessly, she made witty comments that had people roaring with laughter.

She shone, and the best part of it all was that every few minutes, he would see her eyes sweeping the crowd, searching, and their target was always him. Every time their gazes locked, she gave him that crooked smile. And when she was ready to rest, Susan sat tucked into Hancock’s arm for the whole world to see.

**Author's Note:**

> I started coming up with this fantasy when I spun up Fallout 4 for the second time after having major surgery. I got obsessed with Hancock, and I read some fanfiction, but I found it frustrating how easy sex was for everyone. So I decided to write my actual medical issues onto a character, and a story was born.


End file.
